Riddle's Legacy
by GenvieveWoolf
Summary: Miraculously, the boy hesitated. Realizing what was at stake, Tom dropped the wand and fell to his knees. "Don't do it!" The next words came very hard. "Please, don't kill me." What might have happened if Harry had not stabbed Riddle's diary?
1. Lifeblood

_Disclaimer: This is _not_ a slash story. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. ALSO: A few lines are copied word-for-word from Chamber of Secrets. Die-hard fans will recognize them._

_Author's note: This story is for DB. (She made me!) As I told her, I don't think this story has changed me, but it has certainly brought out my darker side. Please leave a comment if you have something constructive to say! :)_

I. Lifeblood

Tom raised the holly wand in his hand. He was more than ready to destroy the tiresome twelve-year-old before him. To kill Harry Potter with his own wand.

Then that interfering phoenix flew back overhead and dropped something into Potter's lap—_the diary_.

For a split second, both Potter and Tom, wand still raised, stared at it. Then Potter seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and Tom's heart went cold.

"Wait!" Tom fairly shrieked, his voice sounding very different from the quiet confidence it had possessed moments before.

Miraculously, the boy hesitated.

Realizing what was at stake, Tom dropped the wand and fell to his knees. "Don't do it!" The next words came very hard. "Please, don't kill me."

"You were going to kill _me!_" Potter exclaimed, his young voice cracking slightly with exhaustion. "You tried to kill Hermione and Colin...and the longer you live, the worse off Ginny is, if she's even still alive! Where do you get the _nerve_ to beg for mercy?"

Tom winced at the word "beg," but there was no time to worry about it. "She'll live," he said quickly, even as he subconsciously checked the flow of life from Ginny's soul to his own. He hated to, but this was not a moment for dishonesty. "There's a way we can _both_ live. I can save her, but I'll need your help."

Potter was listening, but his hand still held the fang poised over the diary. "My help? What exactly do you need?"

"A little blood. A drop will do." Tom held his breath and waited.

Potter glanced toward Ginny's still form uncertainly. "How will my blood help her?"

This boy was proving annoyingly intelligent. Time to take a small chance on a lie. "Her life is tied to mine now. If I die, she will die. But if you wish her to regain her life force, then I will need a new source of strength—your blood. Otherwise, my memory will fade to nothing until Ginny loses her hold on this world."

"And what am I supposed to do with you afterwards—take you to prison?"

"Oh...no. You see, Potter, once I have your blood, your life will be tied to mine as well. I would think you'd want to keep me where you could observe me."

He could see the quiet horror on Potter's face. If the boy believed him, then it would be a terrible choice: to forever knit his soul to his greatest enemy, or to sacrifice Ginny in order to destroy all that was left of Tom Riddle.

"I am the heir of Slytherin," Tom said softly. "You could be the heir of Voldemort."

"What d'you mean?" Potter asked. It was a question he had posed to Tom a few times already that day. It was getting old.

"Look at the destruction our fighting has brought," Tom said, sweeping his gaze from Ginny to the slain basilisk and back to Potter's intense, green eyes. "The beast killed, Ginny dying—you and I have both nearly lost our lives. Think what we could do if we were not enemies—if we worked together, Harry!" He used the boy's Christian name this time and found himself liking its softness. Almost like the hiss of a snake.

"You're asking me to join you," Harry said harshly. "You want to make me as evil as you are. Well, I'm not a killer!"

"Says the boy ready to stab me in the heart! Please, Harry—I'm not evil..."

"Just powerful?" Harry asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Yes, your older self tried to convince me that good and evil don't exist."

"Well..." Tom groped for the right words. He had to be very careful. "Maybe I was wrong," he said at last. "Listen. Ginny told me you have to live with your horrid Muggle relatives. Wouldn't you be better off with someone who understands you? Who recognizes your talent?" He paused to let his words sink in.

Suddenly, Harry gave him a piercing look. "You're lonely, aren't you?"

"What?" Tom was caught off guard. The suggestion was ridiculous.

"What you said earlier," Harry persisted. "About your father abandoning you. That really bothers you, doesn't it?"

Tom took his eyes off Harry's and stared instead at his diary. He knew he should be insulted, but it would not be wise to upset the one person who could kill him at any moment. "Maybe it does," he said. He met Harry's gaze again. "And you're lonely too," he guessed. "You have friends, but...it's not the same as _family._"

He could see Harry making a brave effort to remain inscrutable, but his defenses were certainly coming down.

"Come with me, Harry," Tom murmured, adding as much pleasant softness to his voice as he could. "We can each have a chance at what we were robbed of. You'll be my ward and I'll take care of you."

"You're not even real," Harry argued feebly. "You're just a memory."

"But with your help, I'll be flesh and blood again. You know," he went on, more to himself than to Harry, "I've never allowed myself to truly care about anyone else. It never seemed like good use of my time or talents. But now...." He looked Harry over from his messy hair to the hem of his blood-soaked robes. "Now I'm sort of looking forward to it."

Harry was obviously struggling on the brink of the decision now. "Once I've given you my blood," he said slowly, "will you bring Ginny back?"

"Yes. Immediately."

"And she'll be free of you—completely?"

This was a potent question. When Ginny was free, would Harry be willing to sacrifice himself to destroy Tom? If so, then all was lost. For though it was true that their lives would be linked, Tom knew that neither Harry nor Ginny would really die if he were killed. Again, this mere boy would triumph over the greatest dark wizard in the world.

"She'll be free," he answered, "if I release her completely."

"How do I know you will?"

"You can't know, I'm afraid. I suppose my word is worthless to you."

"Well, it's not much. But maybe it's better than nothing."

Tom nodded. "I swear, I'll let her go. Completely."

"I don't want her to see you when she wakes."

"She won't." Tom marveled at how his fortunes had changed in so short a space of time. He had gone from triumphant to desperate to hopeful. Once he was himself again, he could bide his time until Harry truly trusted him. Then he could kill the boy easily. There would be no more underestimation, no more mistakes. It would not be the grand execution he had planned for Harry Potter, but it would be successful.

"Toss my wand over here," Harry instructed. "And be careful. One wrong move, and you're done for."

Tom didn't doubt it. He grasped the tapered end of Harry's wand between his thumb and forefinger and flicked it onto the stone floor in front of Harry, who picked it up and tucked it into his robes.

"I don't suppose you can use any of the blood I've already lost?"

"I'm afraid not. It has to be fresh."

"Right...." Harry looked around a little before getting to his feet. "Wait there," he said. Still holding the diary and basilisk fang, he backed toward the fallen monster. When he had gone far enough that Tom knew he could not cross the distance quickly enough to try anything, Harry set down fang and diary and reached into the basilisk's mouth. With a huge tug, he removed the glittering sword which he had put there what seemed such a long time ago. He wiped the sword on his robes and began studying his left arm. Choosing a less sensitive area on the back of his forearm, Harry drew the edge of the sword across it with a little hiss of pain.

Tom felt strange. No one had willingly caused themselves pain on his behalf before. He shoved the thought away for closer examination at a more appropriate time.

The phoenix swooped down to Harry's shoulder and made as if to cry on his arm.

"No, Fawkes," Harry said, reaching up to stroke the bird. "I'm all right."

Fawkes left Harry's shoulder in what Tom decided was an avian huff, and Harry set the sword aside to take up the fang and diary again. He returned to his previous position on the floor and set the diary down, his right hand holding the basilisk fang over it.

"All right, you can come over. But move slowly."

Tom nodded. He didn't think he had ever crawled before, even as a baby, but this was no time for pride. He made his way over the floor until he could grasp the wrist of the arm Harry was holding out to him.

It was an odd sensation: his immaterial fingers wrapping around Harry's solidity. He could also feel something like hot sparks against his skin, and he realized that the counter-charm Harry's mother had placed on him was repelling Tom, spitting at the memory of her killer. But that would go away soon, he knew; as soon as Harry's blood was inside him.

Forcing himself to move slowly as he'd been instructed, Tom lowered his mouth to Harry's self-inflicted wound. He felt Harry flinch at the point of contact, but otherwise he kept perfectly still. And why shouldn't he? There was no going back now.

Tom took more than a drop. He couldn't help it. He had always liked the taste of blood. And knowing the significance of this particular blood made him want more. He wanted to drink Harry Potter's veins dry. He could feel the pulse in Harry's wrist growing stronger under the pressure of his fingers. Then he felt the sinews contracting and he knew he had had all he was going to get. He pulled away with a parting lick that made Harry visibly recoil.

Tom felt warmth spreading through him—and cold. The room was very cold, but he could feel the life blossoming inside him. He was no longer a memory.

_Pleeeeeease write something. Even an "I didn't really like this angle, but you're not terrible" note is better than nothing. :p_


	2. Trust Issues

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first chapter! Since you were all so nice to post, I'll do my best to answer questions: DarkFilly asked why Tom liked the taste of blood. That's called character development. __:p I'm writing it...I can make him like the taste of blood if I want to. PrincessKira Sira was curious to see if Tom and Harry (not to be confused with Tom and Jerry!) could be real friends. You'll just have to wait and see! My Solitude, this is not a Tom/Harry pairing. I promise. ;) I answered MyraHellsing's by private message, but the answer is that Harry's basilisk wound had already been healed before Fawkes brought him the diary. You can check the book. Jumiku, I don't intend to give Tom an "I'm only mean because my dad didn't love me" scene, don't worry. Though I can't promise I won't make him a sympathetic character. bluDraconus, thanks for the kind wishes. jumping-jo, "dumbles" may just have to figure it out himself! *evil laugh* Aniset, thanks for the advice. :)_

_Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Now, down to business._

_Disclaimer: This is _**not**_ a slash story. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. ALSO: A few lines are copied word-for-word from Chamber of Secrets. Die-hard fans will recognize them._

_Author's notes: This story is for DB (AKA Dark Filly). Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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II. Trust Issues

It was too fantastic, Harry decided, even for Hogwarts. This couldn't really be happening. The fuzzy, surreal sensation of someone not quite squeezing his wrist was almost bizarre enough to turn his stomach, not to mention what this person's _mouth _was doing.

When would he stop? Hadn't he said a drop would be enough? Harry's arm twitched, reacting to the thought that he should pull away.

In response, Tom lifted his head, dragging his tongue over the cut one more time as if to seal it up again. Harry felt like retching. He shuddered.

Tom was looking up at him with an unsettling smile. He was no longer blurry around the edges. He was a real flesh-and-blood person now. Harry prayed desperately that he had not made a terrible mistake.

"Let her go," he prompted, wishing he could sound more confident.

"All right," Tom said breathlessly. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Harry's wrist.

Harry could feel his pulse pounding against Tom's hand. He was starting to lose feeling in his fingers.

Tom's breathing was becoming ragged, and Harry thought he looked to be in pain. From the way he slouched toward the floor, he seemed to be weakening, but his grip didn't slacken.

Then at last Tom collapsed with a feeble utterance and released his hold.

Harry's whole hand tingled as the blood began circulating again. He flexed his fingers experimentally.

Then came a faint moan from the end of the chamber.

"She's waking," Harry said, almost shocked that Tom really had revived her.

Tom's eyelids fluttered open. "I'll get out of sight," he whispered. Then he gathered his limbs under him and chose to crawl away as he had come, this time out of pure physical exhaustion.

Harry doubted the need to worry about Tom for the moment, but he tucked the fang and diary into his robes as insurance.

As he hurried toward her, Ginny sat up. She looked at her surroundings, seeming lost. Then she saw Harry and gasped.

"Harry! Oh, Harry—I tried to tell you at breakfast, but I couldn't say it in front of Percy—it was _me_, Harry—but I—I swear I didn't mean to—Riddle made me, he t-took me over—and—_how_ did you kill that—that thing? Where's Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the diary—"

"It's all right," Harry said, not wanting to discuss what had happened. "Riddle's done haunting Hogwarts. And the basilisk can't hurt anyone either. Come on, Ginny. You need to get out of here."

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts since B-Bill came, and now I'll have to leave, and—_what'll Mum and Dad say?"_

Harry retrieved the Sorting Hat and the jeweled sword as they went. Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the chamber entrance.

"Listen, Ginny," Harry said gently, "this is Dumbledore's phoenix. He'll lead you back out—Ron's back there. He's really anxious to see you."

"What about you? Aren't you coming?"

Harry hesitated. "Not yet. Don't worry. I'll be fine. Here—you'd better take the Sorting Hat and sword back with you."

Ginny took them. She didn't ask where the items had come from. "Harry..."

"I'll be fine. Tell Ron I'm OK. You need to get these back to Dumbledore and tell him the basilisk is dead."

She seemed to know he was dodging her questions, but he just couldn't tell her what had happened. She would feel terrible knowing what he had gone through for her. And who knew what he had yet to go through!

Ginny hugged Harry hard, with the ruby-hilted sword awkwardly between them. "Harry, I'm sorry."

"It's OK," he said, wishing she would just go. It would be easier that way. But he hugged her back.

"Please be careful," she sniffed.

"I will. Listen: I don't want you to worry about me, OK? No matter _what_ happens. Do you understand? I'll be all right."

She nodded. "OK." She looked back once as she retreated down the tunnel, but then she followed a bend out of sight.

Harry turned back, wondering what on earth he should do next.

Tom was waiting for him, sitting up against the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

"Well," Harry sighed, resigned to the fact that this was not a nightmare, "what now? Do we live down here like the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Certainly not—like whom?"

"Er...it's a Muggle play. About an opera writer who lives under the old theater in Paris...and occasionally kills people."

Tom looked amused. "Nothing so petty. I think I'll take you back to the Riddle House—if it's still standing. If not, we'll have to think of something else. By the way...Ginny. You 'love' her, don't you?"

Harry scowled. "I'm twelve," he reminded Tom.

"I didn't say _in_ love," Tom answered with the smile that was becoming more familiar and less appealing each time Harry saw it.

"What do you care?"

"It could make things...inconvenient for us."

"I'll probably never see her again. Or any of my friends for that matter." Harry would have said more, but the weight of what he was saying had caught up to him. He had given everything. His life. Even the unpleasant bits, like Dudley, were gone. They had been horrible, but they had been _his._ Now, whatever he experienced would have to be shared with a person he despised.

"Come here, Harry."

Far past caring enough to object, Harry went to Tom and sat beside him on the cold stone floor.

"I'll get you new friends," Tom offered.

"I don't _want_ new friends." Harry wished he hadn't answered. He sounded feeble, even to himself.

Tom cupped Harry's chin with both pale hands and turned him until their eyes met. "Then what _do_ you want? We can have anything. The world is, as the Muggles say, our oyster."

Harry nearly laughed. Tom had a strange manner of speaking that had nothing to do with being a dark lord or a wizard.

Tom raised his thumbs to wipe unshed tears from Harry's eyes. "I think we should leave here, at any rate. Someone may come looking for you. Or me."

It was true. Harry knew that as soon as Ron was sure Ginny was out of danger, he would either come charging back himself, or insist that someone else did. And much as he wished he could have said goodbye to everyone, he didn't think he could stand to see any of his school friends. "Yeah," he said. "Let's go."

"You'll need to help me up."

Harry looked questioningly at Tom.

"I haven't had a body for fifty years," Tom explained. "I'm not strong yet. Besides, Ginny's soul gave me so much more energy. It's not a simple thing to go from that to this."

Harry got up and offered his hand to Tom.

Once on his feet, Tom leaned heavily on Harry. "Now, we'll need to go up this passage," Tom informed him, gesturing toward the darkness between Slytherin's feet.

"I never noticed that," Harry said, helping Tom in the direction he had indicated.

"I know. I didn't _want_ you to notice it. You might have tried to escape that way. Never give your enemy something that could help him."

"Like a songbird and an old hat?" Harry sniped.

"You won't be stronger than me for long," Tom said coldly. "Be careful."

"Well, so much for the talk about caring and family..."

Tom turned slightly so that when he spoke, Harry could feel the older boy's breath on his ear. "I haven't had the opportunity to observe much of family life. You may have to teach me some of that."

Harry felt like saying, "You wouldn't like it," but he held his tongue. Better to deal with the one issue at a time.

When they were in the passage, Harry lit his wand and saw that their path led steeply upward. As if he wasn't already exhausted from fighting the basilisk. But he doubted Tom would have any sympathy to offer, so he did not voice his complaints.

The tunnel was long—very long—and it seemed longer to Harry because of having to support Tom. Once or twice, he thought he heard something echoing in the Chamber of Secrets far behind them, but Tom didn't seem concerned. For some reason, Harry found Tom's confidence reassuring. He pressed on.

When they finally reached a small chamber, Harry was spent. He let Tom down against the wall and collapsed beside him.

They were trapped. The passage had led to a dead end. But Tom was still unperturbed, so Harry remained silent.

"I'll need your wand," Tom said after they had got their wind back.

"What for?"

"To Apparate. You won't have learned yet, of course."

"But...I thought you _couldn't_ Apparate in and out of Hogwarts," Harry stammered.

"You can't. But we are not on Hogwarts grounds anymore. This room was placed just outside the grounds for that purpose."

Harry hesitated. "How do I know you'll give it back? How do I know you won't try to kill me? And anyway, I've never Apparated before—not even with someone else."

"I told you—I'm going to take care of you. Trust me, Harry."

Harry didn't trust Tom for a moment, but their lives were linked now. What would they do if they didn't leave by Apparition? He was the one who had released Tom, and now he must accept the consequences. It was his duty to the wizarding world. He slowly passed his wand to Tom.

Tom took it and held it a moment before he said, "Thank you. Now, if you would help me up again..."

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_Thanks for reading! Please leave a review—long or short! If you have a question I'll try to message you or answer it in the next installment. :)_


	3. The Riddle House

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first two chapters! Since you were all so nice to post, I'll do my best to answer questions: DarkFilly, you must be patient. I'll give you a nice violent scene later. It'll be worth the wait. Thanks for condescending to read my story, fred2008. My Solitude and bluDraconis both want to know about Tom and Harry's relationship. Well, I think I've made it clear that it won't be a romantic one. Beyond that, you'll have to wait and see. They are very unlikely friends—whatever happens, it will probably take a while. (Which keeps DarkFilly happy because it makes the story longer...) And no, there will not be any other slash pairings. If slash is your favorite, better read something else._

_Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Now, down to business._

_**Spoiler Warning!**__ This chapter contains information about the Riddle House and the Riddles (see GOF and HBP) which has so far not been revealed through the movies. You have been warned. (DarkFilly, shame on you a thousand times over for not reading the books!)_

_Disclaimer: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. ALSO: Yes, I know that this chapter title is also the title of the first chapter in _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. This is called _allusion_, not plagiarism. Throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p Furthermore, I know very little about wine, so if there's an error about it, forgive my ignorance._

_Author's notes: This story is for Dark Filly. Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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III. The Riddle House

If Harry had known more about Apparating, he probably would have been more nervous, Tom thought. It was going to be tricky to take himself _and _Harry very far from Hogwarts in his weakened state. With any luck, neither of them would get splinched.

"Closer is better," he instructed Harry, positioning the younger boy in front of him.

"OK," Harry said, and Tom noted that now he _was_ beginning to sound nervous, as if being close to Tom worried Harry more than Apparating did. Confidence was something they would need to work on.

If, that was, he decided to keep Harry that long. He _could_ kill him right now if he really wanted to. But he didn't want to be hasty. Harry might prove useful later on, and Tom was a bit curious to see how long it would take to gain his trust. Even more curious to see if he could persuade Harry to drop some of his noble ideals.

Tom snaked an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Now, when I move, just move with me. And I recommend that you keep your arms at your sides."

At Harry's nod, Tom began concentrating on his chosen destination. When it was fixed in his mind, he felt his way between the dimensions as if he were slipping into a paper-thin crack. Harry went with him.

When they felt solid ground under their feet again, they both fell to their knees. Not a very dignified entrance for the future ruler of the world and his heir, but Tom consoled himself that no one had seen them.

He knew that the reason he had fallen was that his body was still weak, and that Harry had most likely fallen because he was not used to Apparating. Still, he decided to check his new ward over.

"All well?" he asked, feeling Harry's pulse and looking into his eyes. A lot could be determined by the look of a person's eyes.

"Think so," Harry panted. "Does it always feel like that?"

"You get used to it." Satisfied that Harry was in one piece, Tom decided that a word of praise couldn't hurt. "Well done," he said.

Harry didn't respond, which annoyed Tom, but he let it go.

They helped each other up and Tom was pleased to see that he had landed very close to his target. They were standing on a grassy hillside overlooking a village.

"That," he said, pointing out the village to Harry, "Is Little Hangleton." He turned toward the run-down manor house that stood nearby looking gloomy in the twilight. "And this is the Riddle House. We can Apparate inside very easily from here."

Harry looked up at the house with no apparent enthusiasm. "Couldn't we walk?"

"There's no need to question my judgment," Tom remarked casually. "Haven't you noticed the hedge?" He waited some time while Harry ran his eyes over the hedge in the failing light.

"Looks a lot better than the house," Harry ventured at last.

"Precisely. Someone has been tending the garden over the years. He may live on the grounds. We don't want to leave any signs of our entry. If you learn to notice details, you'll save yourself a lot of bother. Shall we?"

Tom spread his arms and Harry stepped between them a bit more willingly than before. There was progress, anyway.

This time they both managed to remain upright, thanks to an obliging wall. The room in which they had arrived was cold and dark and smelled of mold. Tom lit Harry's wand and saw that they were in the wine cellar. A floor lower than he had intended, but no matter. He stumbled to the nearest rack, pulled out a bottle and wiped the dust from the yellowed label. "Nineteen forty-one," he murmured. "To think that this is vintage now." He turned to Harry with a smile. "Care to try a little Bordeaux? You look as if you could use it."

Harry seemed a bit shaken. He looked around, took, two thin-stemmed glasses from a shelf and began blowing dust from the rims.

"Most of these are even older," Tom observed, pulling a few bottles out far enough to read the labels. "They probably haven't been touched these fifty years. Some may be past their prime."

"Was this your parents' house?" Harry asked.

Tom conjured a corkscrew and pulled the stopper from the bottle. "Grandparents,'" he corrected. "My mother never lived here. My father crawled back here when he was done with her."

"And then?" Harry held the glasses out so Tom could pour the wine.

"He went on living with them until I turned sixteen. Then I paid them an unannounced visit. Have you drunk alcohol before?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing stronger than butterbeer."

"Best to start off sipping, then," Tom said smiling. "Let's drink to our future."

"Couldn't we drink to something more cheerful?" Harry muttered.

Tom watched Harry cautiously taste his wine. "What do you think?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure..." he sipped again.

"Be careful." How amusing it would be to teach Harry about culture. Tom had had to teach himself by observing notables and studying books. But he would probably not have time for it anyway.

"I guess I like it," Harry said. "Is it an acquired taste?"

"Probably. I can tell you one thing: the more you drink, the more you like it. Ergo the words of caution."

"I believe it. Tom...did you kill your father and grandparents?"

Tom drained his glass. "They deserved it."

"Your own father."

"I found the irony very appealing."

Harry muttered, just loud enough for Tom to hear, "Murder's not the only irony thing you have a taste for."

Tom laughed aloud. "Your sense of humor is growing on me. I think I'll let you keep it."

"Thanks for that."

"Let's see what we can find upstairs," Tom said, leading the way to a worn wooden staircase. He remembered little about the house, but he did remember the dining room when they came to it. The furniture was shrouded in dust covers, shapeless ghosts in the pale wandlight.

"May I have my wand back now?" Harry asked.

Tom nearly followed impulse and killed him. But no, he still had use for Harry. He had to be patient. "Not yet. Light the fire."

Before Harry turned away their eyes met, and Tom wondered if Harry had sensed the moment of danger, but neither of them spoke.

Harry found tinder and wood in a stand beside the fireplace and had soon lit a small blaze with a fireplace match from the mantle.

The firelight gave the room a red tint that Tom found pleasant. "This is the room, Harry," he said quietly. "This is where I killed them."

Harry rose from kneeling by the fire and went to stand near Tom. "Did you have any family left?"

"No—not to speak of. And not for long." No need to explain this cryptic statement to Harry. He looked at the latter's dim silhouette and smiled pensively. "But perhaps.... Things are changing fast. You are my family now, aren't you?"

After a poignant silence, Harry replied, "For what it's worth."

"I think that 'what it's worth' will depend on what we make of it, don't you agree?"

Without warning, Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"What is it?" Tom asked.

"Exams. Exams are in three days—probably two by now.... I didn't make it through even two years at Hogwarts!"

"What can I say—I'm persistent."

"You've taken everything from me."

"No. Not everything. But I'll make it up to you. We'll own Hogwarts someday. We can make it our summer home if you like."

"When you rule all of Britain?"

"Sooner, if you're nice to me."

Harry groaned again.

"Anyway, you don't need exams. I can teach you."

"_Everything?"_ Harry asked, and Tom could hear the skepticism clearly in his tone.

"Everything of importance. We needn't bother so much with things like history. We should start immediately."

"Tom, please—I'm very tired."

"Of course...you must be exhausted. Let's go find sleeping quarters, shall we?"

They found the main staircase in the front hall and made their way upstairs.

"By the way," Tom said as they walked, "I don't want you to call me Tom anymore."

"But...it's your name."

"Not anymore. I am Lord Voldemort."

After a moment, Harry said, "I can't call you that. Voldemort killed my parents. They weren't like your father and grandparents—they didn't deserve it."

"If I killed them, then there was a reason. I believe Ginny mentioned that they defied me openly—"

"It's nothing to kill over! You love your life so much you'll do anything to keep it—drink unicorn blood, possess children—but you take other people's lives so lightly!"

"Isn't that natural?"

"No!" Harry shouted. "It is NOT!"

Tom waited until Harry seemed in control of himself before saying, "Please don't raise your voice to me, Harry."

Harry kicked a baseboard in the upstairs hallway, and Tom knew he was the preferred target.

"Perhaps we could reach a compromise," Tom suggested.

"Like _what?"_

"You don't wish to call me Voldemort; I don't wish to be called Tom. I suppose, for the time being, you could use my middle name, Marvolo. What do you say?"

He could tell that Harry was still angry. The potential in this raw passion excited Tom. Harry could be so much, if handled correctly.

"I suppose that will do," Harry said stiffly, containing his rage.

"Good. Now, then. Here we are..."

Instinct had served Tom well and led him straight to the master bedroom. Looking around in the light of Harry's wand, Tom began to feel annoyed though he wasn't sure why. "Something's missing," he muttered. "Never mind. Let's find a room for you."

They went next door to an adjoining bedroom and Tom realized what had bothered him about the first room. "They had separate rooms."

Harry shrugged. "It's not _that_ unusual, is it?"

"It's ironic; that's all." He looked around at the equally rich, but decidedly more feminine decor of the second room. "I suppose you don't want this room?"

"Please."

"Come on, then."

Across the hall they found a room which Tom knew at once, though he had never seen it before. "This is _his _room."

Harry looked around. "This will work for me, I guess."

Tom shook his head. "I don't want you staying in here."

"Well, I'm not sleeping in _your_ room..." Harry said in sing-song tones.

Tom smiled darkly. "Of course not." He turned away from his late father's doorway and led Harry further down the hall. "Even people so despicable as the Riddles must have had a guest room if they thought themselves at all proper."

Sure enough, they found a spare room next to the lavatory at the end of the hall. It looked as if it had never been used.

"Will this do?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Later we can remodel the room next to mine for you."

"No hurry," Harry muttered.

Tom knew it was a snub, but he said, "Yes, we have more important things to see to first. I need a wand, and we'll both need new robes." He passed the wand back to Harry. "Get as much sleep as you can; we'll be busy tomorrow."

"Right. Er...Marvolo?"

Tom could tell that it would take them both a little time to adjust to the new name. "Yes?"

"Um.... Good night."

"Good night, Harry."


	4. The Guardian

_My intros are turning into essays! That's what comes of having so much support. Thanks for all the reviews on the first three chapters! Since you were all so nice to post, I'll do my best to answer questions: __**Disco-Dancing on the Roof**__, I see your point, but I have to point out a few things (and please don't put references to F words in your reviews—it's quite unnecessary). First, Tom didn't say that history was unimportant. He said they need not bother with it. At that point Tom was not really planning on keeping Harry around, so he wanted to cut corners on anything and everything that he taught his ward. Furthermore, Professor Binns was teaching history at Hogwarts when Tom was a student there, and he knows that Harry is probably bored out of his skull with the Goblin Rebellions just as he was. Tom's main interest in history was in the purity (or impurity) of bloodlines, and in artifacts which signified power. The former could be taught as they went along, and the latter would be of no use to Harry. Tom considers it much more important to teach Harry new spells and work on whittling away his loyalties to those on the "Light Side." In short, at this point he needs a pawn and not a general. That doesn't mean he won't change his mind later. But that is my defense for Tom's statement. __**Brightandsunny**__, so glad you're intrigued by the strange relationship! About Ginny...I haven't planned that far so I'll make no promises, but I will say this: as he pointed out to Tom, Harry's not quite thirteen yet. If he's in for any romance in this story, it won't be very serious. __**InuMaru 12**__, I have considered writing a chapter about Ron and Hermione and/or Dumbledore and how people are reacting, but it might detract from the sinister overtone of the story. I'll have to ask DarkFilly's opinion, since she's calling most of the shots. __:) __**A couple of people**__ have speculated on whether the "other" Voldemort will come into this story. To tell the truth, I considered having a show-down between the two of them, but decided that that would be A. Too far from canon and B. Too cheesey. (C. Too much bother!) I'm not really planning to make this story span enough time to get Voldy into his resurrected body and all that jazz. So, nope! Don't hold your breath waiting for "enter Lord Voldemort." Not gonna happen. __**Lastly**__, a few people think my story would be better as a slash story. Others are glad it is not. I am not a slash fic supporter and therefore request that you stop insulting me by telling me that my__ hard work would be "better" if I made it slash. Kthnx, end of rant._

_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Now, down to business._

_**Spoiler Warning!**__ This chapter contains minor hints about some book material which has so far not been revealed through the movies. You have been warned. (Shame on all those who have not read the books!)_

_Disclaimer: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested._

_Author's notes: This story is for Dark Filly. Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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IV. The Guardian

The Riddle House was very creepy in Harry's opinion. He couldn't decide if he was glad or worried about his room being so far away from Tom's..._Marvolo's_. He would have to start using that name in his thoughts if he was going to remember to use it in his speech.

He pulled back the curtains of the guest bed and paused. It was silly, he knew, but he had to check under the bed before climbing into it.

Nothing there but dust. Harry took off his school robes and crawled between the heavy covers. He sighed deeply.

Now that he was alone, Harry could finally think over all the insane things that had happened to him that night. He set his glasses on the bedside table and wondered what had happened at Hogwarts after he and Marvolo had left. Hermione would have been revived by now. She would want to know why Harry hadn't returned from the Chamber of Secrets. Everyone probably thought that he _had _been the Heir of Slytherin after all, and that he had fled when his secrets were exposed. But then, who had killed the basilisk? Ginny knew the truth of course, but would they believe her?

It wasn't fair, Harry decided. No good deed went unpunished. And it seemed that he would be punished for saving Ginny's life for a long time. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to a twelve-year-old. He couldn't help crying a little. He would probably never see his friends again, or get to play Quidditch, or go on a date...he'd have Dark Wizard lessons instead, with self-appointed guardian Marvolo.

_He's strange_, Harry thought, _and not just because he's Voldemort_. Marvolo had gone from murderous to companionable in less than an hour. And for someone who didn't know the meaning of affection, he certainly seemed to touch Harry a lot. _Overcompensation_, he decided. Marvolo was completely out of his depth in this area, so he was trying too hard. But what if it was more than that? Maybe something besides life had been transferred through Harry's blood. Was it too much to hope that it wasn't too late for Marvolo to learn to care for someone besides himself?

Another possibility struck him—a much less encouraging one. Perhaps it was all an act. Maybe Marvolo knew he was hopeless at the family thing, so he was using a lot of touch to fool Harry into thinking he cared. It was the least pleasant, but most likely possibility. Maybe he should just stab the diary and be done with it.

But had Marvolo really released Ginny as he'd promised? What if destroying the diary killed all three of them? Would it even hurt Marvolo now that he had Harry's blood?

Harry turned things over in his mind until it hurt to think. He wondered if the glass of wine had anything to do with it. He tried to concentrate on the knowledge that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were safe for the time-being. Whatever happened to him was surely worth that.

When he awoke, Harry half expected to see the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Then he opened his eyes and saw the dark red drapes around the bed and wondered if it could be the Gryffindor dormitory. Then Marvolo spoke and everything came rushing back.

"Good morning, Harry. How do you feel?"

Harry rolled over and felt pain wash over his whole body. "I feel like I've been beaten. How are you?"

"Better, thank you. But I am hungry. I don't think we are likely to find any food in the house, so we may as well eat when we go to Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley?" Harry asked, slowly pushing himself to an upright position. His muscles ached.

"They say Ollivander is the best wandmaker. I'm going to him."

"Ollivander remembers every wand he ever sold—he'll recognize you. Then everyone will know you're back.

Marvolo shrugged. "Most likely they know already, if Ginny's told her tale. Dumbledore at least will unravel it. I'm not concerned."

"Well, at least one of us will be calm. When d'you want to leave?"

"The sooner the better." Suddenly, as Harry climbed out of bed, Marvolo smiled at him. "You slept in your blue jeans?"

"They're comfortable," Harry said defensively. "And it's cold in here."

"True...and we shouldn't light fires often, or someone will notice. We'll need to get you some warm things to sleep in, I suppose. You have money?"

"Yes," Harry said grudgingly. He supposed there was no point in trying to keep anything from Marvolo anymore. "We should probably get some Muggle money changed so we can buy food in Little Hangleton."

"That's good thinking. Are you well enough to Apparate?"

Harry sighed. I suppose so—let's get it over." He gave Marvolo his wand and let himself be held as he had the previous times. He wondered if they would need less contact as Harry gained experience. Maybe soon he would work up the courage to ask about it. Marvolo could pretend what he liked about taking care of Harry and treating him like an equal—they both knew that Marvolo was in charge and wasn't about to let that change.

When they reached Diagon Alley, Harry gasped in a deep breath and nearly fell over again, but Marvolo steadied him.

"It's good to be back," Marvolo said, his eyes dancing as he took in the scene. "Gringott's first, I think."

The goblin who handed Harry his new vault key at Gringott's seemed suspicious to see Harry out of school and in need of a new key, so Harry decided that news of the most recent doings at Hogwarts must not have reached the general populous yet.

"And will your—er—_companion_ be accompanying you to your vault, Mr. Potter?" the goblin asked with a sharp look at Marvolo.

"He's family," Harry said quickly, and Marvolo smiled.

The goblin did not ask any more questions.

Harry withdrew and exchanged what he hoped was enough money to last them several months at least. As soon as word got out that Harry Potter was missing, he wouldn't be able to show his face anywhere.

If Marvolo was impressed by Harry's fortune, he didn't show it. "Ollivander's next," he said.

Harry was very curious to see what would happen at the wandmaker's shop, so he hurried after Marvolo.

It was immediately clear that Ollivander knew something was up. He looked casually at Marvolo first, then noticed Harry behind him and glanced hurriedly back to Marvolo.

"May I help you?" the old wizard asked in a nervous voice.

"You may if you can sell me a new wand," Marvolo answered smoothly.

"No trouble with the old one, I hope," Ollivander said, beginning to pull boxes off a shelf behind the counter.

Marvolo didn't bother to answer.

"Well...let's have you try this one. Ash and unicorn hair. ten inches."

Marvolo gave Ollivander a dark look as he took the wand, as if he thought there was no way this wand would work for him. He flicked the wand at Ollivander without saying a word. The wandmaker flew back into the shelf behind him.

Harry gasped, but recovered himself quickly.

"Oh," Ollivander exclaimed, "that was a misjudgment...." He rubbed his elbow and took the ash wand back.

"Have you anything more refined?" Marvolo asked.

"Of course, sir..." Olivander shot a questioning look at Harry and murmured, "I wonder...." Then he went quickly down a row of shelves and returned a minute later with a single box. "See how this one suits you, Mr...?"

Marvolo looked Ollivander in the eye as he took the new wand. "I am Harry's guardian, Marvolo." He held the wand perfectly still this time. Slowly, a red glow appeared at the tip and grew until the light hurt Harry's eyes.

"Extraordinary," Ollivander cried.

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

As the glow subsided, Ollivander explained, "As I told you, Mr. Potter, I remember every wand I ever made. There are not many large holly trees in this region anymore, and good holly wood is difficult for me to come by. It so happens that the tree from which your wand was cut yielded enough good wood for just one other wand—the one which has just chosen your guardian. Holly and dragon heartstring. Twelve and three-quarters inches. Nice and supple"

Harry felt a strange tingling sensation. This was the first really cool thing that had happened to him since he killed the basilisk.

"I'll take it," Marvolo said.

Once they were outside, Harry asked, "Do you think he recognized you?"

"He did."

"Why didn't he say so?"

"Because, to his small mind, it is impossible. Wandmaking is all he knows. He has no concept of great magic."

"You didn't have to knock him down, though."

"A _unicorn hair_ wand," Marvolo spat. "Of all the pretentious.... Some people are ignorant. We don't need to stand around waiting while they figure out their lives. I gave him incentive to start using his brain."

Harry fell silent.

The next order of business was brunch at a corner cafe before starting for Madam Malkin's robe shop.

Madam Malkin was very pleased to see Harry. "You're out of school early, aren't you? Have they really had to close Hogwarts?"

"I don't believe they're closing it," Harry said carefully, "but my guardian decided it was best to take me away for a while." He indicated Marvolo.

"Guardian? Bless you, sir, you don't look old enough to be Mr. Potter's guardian! You must be from James's side?" she guessed.

Marvolo fixed her with a hard smile. "I'm old enough."

"Well—what brings you to my shop?"

"We will both need an entire wardrobe."

Madam Malkin clapped her hands. "Splendid. Now, I do have _robes_ for all occasions, but there are many articles you'll need that I don't carry. Would you like to order them through my shop or get them for yourselves?"

"All through your shop. And everything should be custom-tailored."

"Excellent. Of course, that will be very expensive...."

Marvolo looked over his shoulder at Harry.

Harry met his steel-grey eyes and found himself smiling. He nodded.

Turning back to the shop owner, Marvolo said, "Money is no object."

Impressed, Madam Malkin replied, "Very good, then. I'll get your measurements."

Harry had had robes made for him before, but never a dinner jacket or trousers. He couldn't believe how many things had to be measured. He stood on a platform while a tape-measure floated around him, unrolling and re-rolling itself.

By the time they were finished ordering and Marvolo had arranged and untraceable method of delivery (for Harry's sake, he explained, because of the press), it was nearly sunset.

As they headed back up the street, Harry said, "What do you think of the link between our wands?"

"I could not have planned a better happenstance," Marvolo replied. "We have so much in common.... I'm glad things turned out as they did. That I wasn't able to kill you." They had stopped walking, and Marvolo reached up to brush Harry's bangs to one side and reveal the lightning bolt-shaped scar.

Harry gasped in pain as Marvolo's fingertips moved over his forehead. He felt as if he'd been hit by a bludger.

"What is it?" Marvolo asked.

"When you touched my scar," Harry panted. "It hasn't hurt that bad since last year, when..."

"When I tried to kill you," Marvolo finished.

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Of course," Marvolo said softly. "Your mother's charm doesn't protect you now that I've drunk your blood. But your scar knows who I am—who I will become."

Harry's heart raced as he realized how vulnerable he was. He had left the diary and basilisk fang at the Riddle House, and now Marvolo had a wand. Without his mother's charm, he was a sitting duck, wasn't he?

"Come along, Harry. We'll have dinner and go home."

"OK," Harry said numbly. He followed Marvolo without noticing where they were going and ate his food without tasting it, dreading the moment when Marvolo would take him "home."

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_Sorry it's a tad short. I'll try to get the next chapter "Snake Charmer" typed soon. __:) Don't forget to review! :D_


	5. Snake Charmer

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first four chapters! Since you were all so nice to post, I'll do my best to answer questions: __**DarkFilly**__, there are other wandmakers, but __**(spoiler alert!)**__ in the later books when wands become important, it is Ollivander to whom Voldemort goes for advice. Voldy is the sort of guy who won't try anything new if what he's doing already is working fine. He's also a tad sentimental, though he'd never admit it. He likes going back to places he went in his youth, and treasures things owned by great wizards, etc. You're absolutely right about the typo...missed that one in my read-through. As for the "pinch of excitement" you request, the action will build. Be patient. :) __**Disco-Dancing on the Roof**__, I appreciate your compliance and agreeableness__**. Insane Juggler**__, I don't mind if this is not your kind of story, but you don't have to make it sound like I'm torturing you. Here's my defense for the literary crimes I seem to have committed: First, of course Tom has room for error. Yes, he's been waiting 50 years, but not planning anything specific. He has no control over who will find the diary or where he can go from there. He has no concept of how the world is developing during those 50 years. He may be 66 years old technically, but his body, mind and emotions are 16. What 16-year-old executes his plans perfectly at all times? Not Tom Riddle—otherwise Harry would not have been able to defeat him in CoS. Second, Harry would be far more likely to know about _ThePhantom of the Opera_ than Tom would. Why? Because Tom had no interest in Muggle literature that we ever heard, and his being raised in an orphanage (a poor one at that) would make it nearly impossible for him to have attended the play or seen the old black and white movie. Once he learned he was a wizard, he would have had no interest in such things anyway. You also mentioned that Tom might have heard about the story when it was new. Sorry, but it was written about 1910, long before Tom's parents were married. Harry, meanwhile, was raised in a house in which the television was on much of the time, and when the _Phantom_ became popular because of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, Harry is certain to have at least heard something about it. We know that Harry was a reader. He might very possibly have gotten hold of some classics and read them in the safety of his cupboard—who knows. As for its being the furthest thing from his mind, you'd be surprised what pops into your mind when you're scared for your life. Since Harry's completely out of his depth, he's grasping for something he can relate his situation to, and he seizes on that story. But I was most astounded that you mentioned that in the canon Harry doesn't know about it—the whole point of a fanfic is to write what did not occur in canon! Third, you said Tom wouldn't beg Harry. No, he wouldn't. In canon he didn't, and he ended up dead. So I decided to deviate from canon, make him a little smarter and give him—as you called it—a backup plan. The backup plan was begging Harry. Not too macho, but it kept him alive. He didn't really mean anything he was saying, of course—he was totally duping Harry. Perhaps you missed that bit. Lastly, you start out saying Harry's character is too weak and then you turn around and say he's too smart. Which is it? At risk of repeating myself, the reason this is a fanfic and not canon is because I wanted to explore the way things __**could**__ have been (and perhaps should have, in some cases). Reading the books, I always felt that Harry was a bit conceited and as you said, stupid. That doesn't mean I disliked him—he was still cool. But in my story, I wanted to make him a bit more admirable while keeping him very human. So I made him a bit more cautious than Rowling's Harry. I think that other than slight changes (for the better!) in Harry, I have kept both characters fairly true to the nature that Rowling gave them. She made both of them rather rash, but in opposite ways. If you study the way these characters play off each other in my story, I think you'll see interesting contrasts. But I don't want to bore you with having to reread it—after all, this story is "not for you."_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who reviewed! Now, down to business._

_**Spoiler Warning!**__ This chapter contains hints about people/circumstances in the HP books which have so far not been revealed through the movies. You have been warned. (DarkFilly, shame on you a thousand times over for not reading the books!)_

_Disclaimer: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. ALSO: __Throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p Furthermore, I know very little about wine, so if there's an error about it, forgive my ignorance._

_Author's notes: This story is for Dark Filly. Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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V. Snake Charmer

Harry didn't seem to be in pain anymore but he looked pale and did not appear to enjoy his dinner. Marvolo was not one to spoil his associates, but when he ordered dinner for someone, he expected them to enjoy it.

"Harry, are you ill?"

Harry shook his head.

"Perhaps we should leave now, if you are not hungry."

"I'm all right."

"Look at me."

Harry responded immediately, meeting Marvolo's gaze and blinking rapidly.

"Why are you afraid?"

Harry broke eye contact and stared at the table between them. "I...reckon I'm homesick."

Marvolo knew that wasn't the issue, but he played along. "I thought the Muggles were unkind to you."

"Not for them—Hogwarts. My friends."

"I see. Hogwarts was my first home too, you know. But we're making our own home now. Aren't we?"

All he got was a small nod, and Marvolo knew nothing was sinking in very much. He decided to keep to more pleasant topics and made a mental note to find a way to stop Harry's scar from reacting to his touch.

When it was time to Apparate, Harry was more than reluctant.

"It's all right, Harry," Marvolo said as he secured his hold for the journey. "In a few years, I'll teach you to Apparate on your own. You'll get used to it."

"Yeah." Harry sounded as if he hadn't heard anything Marvolo had said. He put his arms stiffly at his sides.

Marvolo actually landed them inside the Riddle House this time—in the attic, to be exact. Hardly any moonlight was coming from the small window at the end of the cluttered, dusty space. Harry cleared his throat then.

"_Lu_—"

"Stop!" Marvolo said sharply. "Don't, Harry."

In the pause that followed, Marvolo could hear Harry's heavy, nervous breathing.

"Have you used any magic since we left the Chamber of Secrets?" Marvolo asked.

"Er...I don't think so. No, I haven't."

"Are you sure? Think!"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry said a bit defensively.

"Good. Let's keep it that way for now. _Lumos_." He lit his own wand and searched for the attic's exit.

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why shouldn't I do magic?"

But Marvolo barely heard him. He had spotted a portrait leaning against a Victorian table. "No..." he muttered, "I thought I'd never have to see that face again!" He leveled his wand at the portrait and uttered a long stream of curses (of both kinds). By the time he was done, the portrait was a fine grey powder on the hardwood floor and Harry had taken cover behind a steamer trunk.

"My gosh," Harry said as he crept out of hiding, "couldn't you have just thrown darts at it?"

Again, Marvolo ignored Harry. He had found the staircase. He led Harry down it and through the door at the bottom.

"So..." Harry tried again. "That was your dad's portrait, then?"

Marvolo snorted.

"Your father's?" Harry amended.

"How ever did you guess?"

"Right. And why did you say I shouldn't use magic?"

"The Trace. The spell that shows the Ministry where underage wizards are performing magic—that one. Heard of it?"

"Oh, yeah. A house-elf nearly got me expelled that way. But you're not of age either."

"You're forgetting to think," Marvolo said impatiently.

"Oh, I see. I guess your Trace disappeared when...when your future self reached seventeen."

"Precisely. The Ministry deals out only one Trace to each wizard, and once that is gone from the recipient's end, it disintegrates on the other. The Ministry of your time has no way of knowing when I perform magic. By now, they're probably organizing a search for you, though, and keeping a close eye on your Trace."

"Maybe. Are there a lot of tunnels out of the Chamber of Secrets, or just the two?"

Marvolo smiled a little. "Don't forget the way my basilisk entered the Chamber. Besides that, there are a half dozen other passage entrances hidden around, leading more or less nowhere. It will probably take them a good two or three days to confirm you're not down there."

"That's terrible!"

"Terrible? It's beautiful. I'll see you to your room now."

"I think I can find it."

Marvolo barely stopped himself from hitting Harry. "I thought you might want the light," he snapped. "You are not to use your wand if it can be avoided. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry said in a much meeker tone.

_Maybe I should just kill him,_ Marvolo thought. Harry might be more trouble than he was worth. But no...surely he would come around eventually. And having an heir could make him so much more powerful in the long run. He would keep Harry—for now, at least.

"Tomorrow I'll pay a visit to the Wizarding Library in London," he announced to Harry. "I have some important research to do."

Harry seemed to have calmed a bit; enough to be curious anyway. "What sort of research?"

"I need to see if there is a way to keep my touch from irritating your scar and a way to remove your Trace."

"Remove the Trace? Surely if there was a way, Fred and George Weasley would have figured it out by now..."

"Most curses can be broken," Marvolo said, studying Harry's scar in the glare from his wand, "and if the Ministry designed the Trace to disappear when you turn seventeen, there may be a way to trigger it early."

"Make it think I'm older, you mean?"

"Perhaps. Now go on to bed. You're tired."

--------------------------------------------

Marvolo left at first light. He left a note beside Harry's glasses. Perhaps Harry would gain some trust from the realization that Marvolo had come so close to him while he slept and not harmed him. He had gotten another idea for research when he left the note, so he was more eager than ever to begin.

The London Wizarding Library was open at all times. The books were spelled to return to the library exactly one week after passing through the doors, if they were not returned sooner. The spell involved a measure of Floo Powder in the spine of each book, so that it could sail easily home by way of the nearest fireplace. Because of this system, most of the books did not require checking out, and the doors were not kept locked. Anyone could pay a visit, whether the librarian was in or not.

Marvolo was glad to find the library nearly empty. He quickly found many prestigious works on experimental age charms and potions, and even one with a detailed description of the inner workings of the Trace. This particular book could not be removed from the library, but Marvolo was accomplished at duplication spells.

The next project was more difficult simply because of the bulk of information available on curses and counter-curses. In the end, he chose a wide variety of books on the subject, hoping that at least one of the authors would have some insight to lend him.

Lastly, Marvolo turned to the "Healing and Magical Medicine" section.

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He made one more stop before going home—the Wizarding Employment Agency.

"I am looking for a house-elf," he told the blonde witch behind the desk.

Most house-elves did not choose their masters—they were inherited by them. Most that were released from service were too ashamed to seek new homes. But a few of them became so desperate for a new family to serve that they turned to the Agency for placement.

"Name, please?" the blonde requested.

In Hogwarts, Marvolo's closest associates had nicknamed him "the Snake Charmer." Not because he was a Parselmouth, but because he was subtle as a serpent and able to charm anyone, peer and teacher alike. With well-practiced expertise, Marvolo turned an enchanting smile on the clerk and leaned forward so that a rebel lock of hair fell down in his eyes. "I was about to ask yours," he purred.

She put up a decent fight, but Marvolo could see that she was only pretending not to be smitten. "I need your name for the records," she said, smiling back coyly.

How tiresome. It really was disgusting how easily she was won over. "Well, you see, it is a gift for my uncle. He won't admit that he needs help. He won't turn an elf away once it agrees to serve his family, but I would rather he wasn't able to find out who made the arrangements. He may be old, but he can still give a fellow...a hard time." He winked, an action he truly despised. "But if you absolutely _have_ to have my name..."

The witch thumbed through a stack of papers. "Well...I could put down your uncle's name, I suppose. Since he's the one the elf will go to. Your uncle won't be mean to the little fellow, will he?"

"Of course not," Marvolo said softly, putting a clever imitation of compassion in his eyes. "He certainly won't overwork him; that I promise. His name is Armond Prewitt."

Prewitt was a well-known wizarding family name, and the clerk took it down without question. "There. Your secret is safe with me," she said in gentle tones that might have melted an ordinary man. "There's an elf that was just clothesed last week, and he's frantic for a new family. I expect him here this evening, about supper time. He likes to wait on me while I eat...it's really pitiful. He'll be overjoyed when he meets you."

"I'll be back this evening, then," Marvolo said grinning boyishly. He stared into her eyes and fingered the wand inside his robes. "Thank you, Sylvie."

The blue eyes widened. "How...what's _your_ name?"

"This evening," Marvolo repeated. Then he turned and left without another word. When he had concluded his business with her, the blonde witch would not remember that he or the house-elf had ever been at the agency.

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Harry had somehow filled the Riddle House with the smell of cooking meat. Marvolo hoped his charge had neither used magic nor lit a fire in the middle of the day—if so, he would not stop himself from hitting Harry this time.

But when he entered the kitchen, Marvolo saw that Harry was cooking over a gas stove.

The younger boy looked up from his work. "You're back. What are all those books?"

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking. I wasn't sure you'd be back, but I made enough for both of us. Steak. And I'm boiling some carrots. They'll be done soon."

"I can see that you're cooking. When did you learn?"

"The Dursleys made me cook all the time. "I'm guessing you like your steak rare? I can take it out now, if you'd like."

"Yes, thank you." Marvolo watched intently.

Harry was no chef, but he looked perfectly comfortable in front of the stove. He tipped Marvolo's piece of steak onto a waiting plate and turned the other piece over in the pan. Then he peeked under the lid of a saucepan in which chopped carrots sat in near-boiling water. Without pause, Harry moved Marvolo's plate to the table where two places were set with knives, forks, wine glasses, water glasses and napkins.

"Where did these things come from?" Marvolo asked, taking his place at the head of the table.

"I found some of the dishes here. I bought the rest in Little Hangleton. I thought you wouldn't mind. Since they're Muggles, I'm sure no one will have recognized me. I made sure my scar didn't show, though—"

Harry was rambling now, no longer looking calm and peaceful as he had when Marvolo first got back.

"Harry," Marvolo silenced Harry's stream of conversation, "it's all right. I did not leave you any instructions; I am glad you kept busy."

"OK." Harry took the carrots off the burner and turned off the gas. He drained the carrots and dumped them into a bowl, then put his steak on another plate and took bowl and plate to the table. "It's not really a meal," he apologized, "but I'm not used to the gas stove yet, and I didn't want to try anything too dangerous."

"It's more than I expected. Sit down."

"Well, the wine's still in the cellar. We don't have any ice, so I left it down there as long as possible."

Marvolo smiled. "That was good presence of mind."

When Harry had fetched the bottle of Bordeaux from the cellar, he said, "If you hadn't come back, I'd have just done without. I mean, I've never drunk alone before, and I've only drunk at all once...didn't seem like the best idea." He pulled out the cork which Marvolo had replaced on their first night in the Riddle House. He poured a moderate serving for each of them before taking his seat.

"You know, I usually take my wine in the evening," Marvolo said, "but I don't mind making an exception."

"Usually? You've been in the diary the last fifty years. And you can't have done much drinking before that, could you? If someone caught you at it...."

Wide-eyed innocence usually made Marvolo want to crush it, but for some reason Harry's seemed almost admirable, like a handsomely painted clay pigeon—made for smashing but too perfect to smash. "You would be surprised at what goes on at Hogwarts after O.W.L.s," he said. _Probably shocked,_ he added silently.

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_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review. :) I'll try to have chapter 6 out a bit quicker than this one, but no promises._


	6. Tally

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first five chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them: __**ButterflyOnna77**__, it wasn't a question, but I'll answer it anyway...Dobby? Well, I find him quite annoying at times, but don't worry. The stylishly challenged elf will make an appearance. __**Luc**__, if you don't like the power shift, you may not like much of this story. It's OK, though.... Once DarkFilly is satisfied, I plan to add my own ending which may be more to your liking. __**Most of you**__ keep speculating about how long Marvolo will humor Harry. *Evil laugh* Wait and see! As for the reaction of other characters, I'll allow you to catch glimpses of it. I'm sure you can fill in the details in your minds. :)_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who reviewed! Some nice humorous reviews in there this time! :D Now, down to business._

_**Spoiler Warning!**__ This chapter contains information about Tom Riddle's parents (see HBP) which has so far not been revealed through the movies. You have been warned._

_Disclaimer: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. Also, I found JKR's explanations of the Trace (such as they were) lacking at best, and very confusing. So I have treated the idea as I have come to understand it. I ask that you humor me. :p  
_

_Author's notes: This story is for Dark Filly (watch for the "headdesk" in this chapter, lol!). Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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VI. Tally

Harry was much less nervous now, though still very confused. If Marvolo meant to kill him, surely he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of finding all those books about aging, counter-curses and...

"What are the medical books for?" he asked, eying the stack of books where Marvolo had left them on the table.

"Just an idea. It may amount to nothing, but gaining more knowledge on the subject can't hurt. Would you like to help with the research after lunch? The sooner you lose the Trace, the better."

"Sure," Harry said. He wanted very much to be able to do magic again, but he was a bit worried about what he would be asked to do once he could. "I wonder if anyone's figured out where I've gone yet," he mused.

"Perhaps we should subscribe to the _Daily Prophet_. It is still circulating, I assume."

"Oh, yeah. Hardly anyone reads anything else."

"I'll make the arrangements, then. Which reminds me: I'll be going out again this evening. I plan to bring someone back with me—someone who will relieve you of cooking duties, among other things."

"I don't mind cooking."

"_I_ mind, Harry. I don't want my heir doing menial tasks."

"Right. OK." Harry wondered why he was being called an "heir" when he had a fortune at Gringott's and Marvolo was penniless. "So, who's the servant going to be? Not kidnapping a Muggle, are you?"

Marvolo smiled that smile again. "Attractive as that idea is—no. He's a house-elf, and I think he is even more eager to come than we are to have him. He was 'clothesed' recently, you see."

Harry thought of Dobby and wondered if that elf would be upset to get "clothesed." Somehow, he doubted it. "May I go along to meet him?"

"No. The witch at the employment agency would recognize you."

"Oh. All right. You won't be long, though?"

"I shouldn't think so."

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By mid-afternoon, Harry was very tired of reading about time turners and pituitary glands. Marvolo had read nearly all of the book on the Trace, pausing to read key points aloud.

"Is this really going to work?" Harry asked at length.

"There has to be a first time," Marvolo replied, not looking up. "Someone may already have figured it out...the Ministry hushes everything up."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Do they have a lot of top secret research going on there?"

"If we knew that, it wouldn't be secret."

"I keep forgetting you haven't graduated Hogwarts yet," Harry said. "I'm always expecting you to know everything."

"_Do_ I know everything in my later life?"

Harry actually felt a bit sorry to burst Marvolo's bubble. "Well, no. If you did, it probably wouldn't have taken you ten years to come back after trying to kill me. And you would have known how to get the Stone from the Mirror.... And—"

"You may stop now," Marvolo said pointedly.

"OK." Harry turned his gaze back to his book, but he couldn't read anymore. "So, what do we know about the Trace so far?"

We know that there is a Time Section in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry Headquarters," Marvolo replied, looking over his notes. "We also know that procedures are not universal—a different application must be made for each one. Further, there are tests for determining the pituitary gland's rate of secretion, for predicting the changes in that rate, and for determining whether or not a Trace is in place."

Lowering his head to his book with a thump, Harry moaned, "This is science, not magic! Is that what the medical books are for?"

"No, actually. But perhaps I should get some more."

"_More?_" Harry thumped his head on the book again.

"We are getting close. If we can discover how to perform those tests, we may find a way to fool your Trace."

Harry sat up. "Wait, you're going to try experimental magic on me—emphasis on _mental?_"

There was the Smile again. "_You_ can't do it—you're underage."

Harry went through several curse words in his mind—ones he had heard his uncle Vernon use. But in the end all he said was, "Will you stop looking at me like that?"

"No...I doubt it."

"Great. Thanks a lot."

"I will be careful not to harm you."

"I'm sure." Harry knew he was pressing his luck, so he tried not to make any more sarcastic remarks after that.

At last, Marvolo set the books aside. "I am going to get the elf now. If you're tired, you may go to bed before I'm back."

"I'll probably wait up. I want to meet him."

"Suit yourself. You might put some more time into these books, but I will not insist."

"I don't think I'd get anything out of them anyway."

When Marvolo had gone, the Riddle House seemed much too quiet. More than a bit spooky, too. Even though there had been other inhabitants after the Riddles, Harry knew that they had not stayed long or made many changes to the house. Marvolo had told him that everything in the dining room was just as it had been fifty years before, and the rest of the house reflected the same style.

Harry lit a candle and went to the door which led to the attic. He was a little afraid to go up by himself, but he doubted that Marvolo would want to explore it with him.

Once up the stairs, Harry held his candle high and looked all around the long room. Mounds of dusty furniture and books were everywhere. Nothing to be scared of. Just a lot of things that would probably bring in hundreds of pounds at auction. He wandered around as quietly as he could, wishing he dared break the silence.

After a few minutes, Harry found himself drawn to the steamer trunk behind which he had taken cover the night before. For a wild moment he allowed his imagination to run free. Perhaps Tom Riddle Senior had murdered his wife and hidden her body in the trunk! But that was silly, of course. Marvolo had said his father had abandoned him "before I was born," so he couldn't have killed Marvolo's mother, much less hidden her body in the Riddle House.

Reassuring himself with his logic, Harry pulled up the trunk's clasps and lifted the lid. The interior smelled like sawdust, old books and moth balls. It seemed at first glance to be full of clothes, but Harry noticed the edge of a book showing between the clothing and the trunk wall. He pulled it out and brushed dust from its surface.

The book's black cover was blank, as were the first few pages, but then an elegant script began...

"_Diary of Thomas Q Riddle_

_8 June 1925_

_The weather is fair, almost too warm for riding. But I intend to have my Chaser in shape for the Autumn Hunts..."_

Harry knew he should have learned his lesson about diaries written by people named Tom Riddle, but he reasoned that reading about the father's life might help him understand Marvolo a bit better. True, they had never known each other, but character traits could be passed down just as surely as looks could, Harry was sure—otherwise he might have become another Dudley Dursley. He flipped a few pages in the diary and began reading again.

_12 October, 1925_

_Ever since Merope Gaunt gave me that cool drink while I was out riding last month, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. She really is prettier than anyone else seems to realize. And she is so kind and thoughtful. I've seen her a few times since, and whenever I go by, she is always there to smile at me._

Interested, Harry flipped a few more pages...

_21October, 1925_

_We've done it! Merope and I have escaped and left Little Hangleton behind us for good! We were married last night, and we are deliriously happy. The aristocracy can go to blazes—there's only one girl for me, and no one can stop us!_

Harry decided to take the diary down to his room to read. He was just at the top of the stairs when he heard a sound from the ground floor. With a dreadful shiver due only half to cold, he hurried down the steps, closed the attic door, rushed up the hallway and tossed the book into his room. As he turned back down the hall, Marvolo appeared at the top of the main staircase.

"Here you are," Marvolo said. He moved aside and a house elf stepped onto the landing.

The elf looked a bit smaller and perhaps younger than Dobby, and he seemed overdressed in a tea towel and a pair of trousers which were several sizes too larch for him.

"Good evening, young master," the elf squeaked. "My name is Tally."

Harry grinned. "Hello, Tally." He chuckled.

Marvolo glanced from elf to Harry. "What is it?"

Holding back laughter, Harry explained, "Well, you told me he had been 'clothesed' recently..." (the elf's ears drooped) "...but it looks to me like he's been _pantsed!_"

Marvolo smiled, and for a moment Harry recognized genuine amusement. But then the look changed to that other smile—the one that was starting to make Harry's flesh crawl.

"Tally will be fixing us a late supper," Marvolo declared. "I will finish explaining his duties to him tomorrow. It's been a long day."

Harry was glad Marvolo had said nothing more about research. If he was lucky, it would be weeks before the experiments began. And perhaps Tally could help out a bit.

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Tally was a wonderful cook. Harry couldn't understand why anyone would want to clothes him. He was quiet and respectful and didn't seem as excitable as Dobby. He served them in the dining room.

"Would Master Harry like more soup?" Tally inquired, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"I would, but I'm full up. Thanks anyway, Tally."

Tally bowed and put the same question to Marvolo.

"No," Marvolo said simply.

Tally bowed again, as if Marvolo had been just as polite as Harry had. "Will masters require anything else before bed?"

Marvolo shook his head.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd see me to bed, Tally," Harry said. "I can't do magic, and I could use some light at least."

"Certainly, Master Harry."

Tally carried a candelabra taller than he was to light Harry's way to bed. "Would Harry Potter like a Warming Charm on his bed?" he asked when they arrived at Harry's room.

"Yes, thank you. Did Marvolo explain to you who I am?"

Tally shook his head vigorously. "No, Harry Potter. Master You-Know-Who introduced you as only 'Harry,' sir. And himself as Marvolo, sir."

Harry's eyes widened. "Then how do you know...?"

"All magic peoples in Britain have heard of Harry Potter. And gossip flies fast about the Dark Lord, sir. The house-elfs at Hogwarts are saying that the memory of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named possessed a Wheezy girl and then escaped—or so says the headmaster there, sir. He has told the Hogwarts boys and girls that You-Know-Who's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, and the Wheezy girl has given a description. Easy to tell who Master is, sir. Easy-peasy."

"You're very clever, Tally. So, why pretend not to know?"

"Because Master did not make introductions with real names. Tally knows when masters want him to play along."

"Dumbledore's figured it out, then," Harry mused. He had always counted the headmaster as an ally, and he would have given a lot to have his advice now. "I wonder if he knows I went with Marvolo by choice."

Tally answered, "Most likely we will know tomorrow, sir. The professor was scheduled to grant a special interview today. And Master Dark Lord has gotten a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_, sir. So we will learn, yes."

"Thank you, Tally."

When the house-elf had gone Harry enjoyed the new warmth of his bed. He still did not go right to sleep, though. He wondered what he would learn the following morning. And when sleep finally came, he found himself in a disjointed dream about Marvolo and Dumbledore discussing which experimental magical procedure to try on Harry first.

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Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! :) More soon, I hope!


	7. Tactics Change

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first six chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them: __**enchanted nightingale**__, thanks for your support! __**Barranca**__, I'm not sure if you were offering advice or summing up what you'd gathered from the chapter, but I have what I'm going to do all worked out (I think...I'm hoping it makes enough sense that you guys will like it). **ams71080**, I'm glad you liked the dream, and I hope you like this chapter just as well. __:)_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who read the latest chapter! :D Now, down to business._

_I don't think there are any spoilers in this chapter, but I won't promise. :p_

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one **__(I thought I should add that before posting this chapter in particular)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly. Perhaps this chapter will appease your thirst for violence. It's not what you asked for, but that will come eventually, I promise. ;) This is one of my favorite chapters so far._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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VII. Tactics Change

Rising early was a habit Marvolo had acquired during his first year at Hogwarts. As soon as he was up, he called Tally.

"Yes, Master Marvolo, sir?" Tally asked, bowing to the floor.

"Has the _Daily Prophet_ arrived?"

"Yes, Master. Master Harry seemed most eager to look at it when we spoke of it last night. Shall I wake him, Master?"

Marvolo was about to agree, but he changed his mind. "No—I will. Bring the paper to me."

In two quick "_bangs_" Tally had retrieved the paper.

"That's all for now," Marvolo told him. "You may prepare breakfast. Harry and I will be down shortly."

"Just one thing, Master. A box arrived by Secret Floo..."

"Where is it?"

"In the kitchen, sir."

"Very well. Harry and I will take breakfast there."

"Very good, Master Marvolo, sir." Once again, Tally Disapparated.

Marvolo carried the _Daily Prophet_ down the hall and stealthily opened Harry's door.

The younger boy was in a deep sleep. His chest rose and fell very slowly. The wand he was forbidden to use lay close by Harry's glasses on the bedside table.

Marvolo was again struck by Harry's innocence, and he again wanted half to destroy it and half to protect it. Perhaps Harry was too young for his plans. Could he really train this naive, sheltered child to be his right-hand wizard?

Harry still did not trust him completely and Marvolo knew it was because he was afraid. The fear was not, of course, ill-founded, but it was tiresome. It was time to play this game a bit harder. To gain Harry's confidence at any short-term cost.

"_Harry,"_ he whispered in Parseltonge.

Harry stirred, but did not wake.

Gingerly, Marvolo reached out to brush Harry's bangs back, being careful not to touch the lightning scar. _"Harry, wake up."_

Harry's eyes flew open and he shrank away from Marvolo's hand. "What?" he said breathlessly, his eyes still glazed from sleep. "What is it?"

"Good morning," Marvolo replied. "The _Daily Prophet_ is here. And, I fancy, our first shipment of clothes."

"Oh...good." Harry's muscles lost a good deal of their tension and he propped himself against the bed's headboard.

Marvolo sat beside him on the edge of the bed and spread the newspaper between them. "Here we are," he said, pointing out a story on the front page. "'Dumbledore Deduces Darkness' by Stan Dingforright. What a pathetic pen name. 'Nothing has been more talked about in the last few weeks than the Chamber of Secrets...' et cetera...." He skimmed over the report of the interview with Dumbledore. "They have Ginny's story here, or most of it. Dumbledore thinks there's a chance you're still alive."

"Where's that bit?" Harry asked. His hand twitched as if he wanted to take the paper.

Marvolo handed it to him and pointed out the place.

Harry's eyes darted back and forth a moment before he began to read aloud. "'"Since there is no trace of Riddle, his diary, Harry [Potter] or his wand," Dumbledore declares, "it seems likely that the two left together. Until further evidence is found, I will maintain the hope that we may yet find Harry Potter alive and—I pray—unharmed." Dumbledore has also said that it is certain that neither Riddle nor Potter is still on Hogwarts property, though it was not disclosed what sort of search was made.' I wonder if they canceled exams after all to conduct a search....I hope not. Hermione would be furious."

"Exams did not start until today, did they?"

"Oh, you're right. Today would have been the first day of exams. I hope Ron does OK. He'll probably figure his mum and dad won't expect too much of him since his best mate's missing. D'you reckon there are lots of people out looking for us?"

"For you, perhaps. I doubt many are looking for me."

"Why not?"

Marvolo took the _Prophet_ back from Harry. "Because of the tone of this story. The reporter does not believe that I exist. He thinks that you or Ginny or the two of you were controlling the basilisk and that you are still hiding somewhere at Hogwarts. No doubt much of the public feels the same."

Harry frowned. "But my friends and their families will know that's not true. Dumbledore knows. He'll do something."

"You sound as if you want us to be found."

"Well...I don't know."

"At least you are honest. Come down and have breakfast now."

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As soon as he had shoved in a few bites of buttered eggs and toast Harry asked, "Can we open the box now?"

Marvolo sipped his coffee. "Lesson One: proper grammar."

"_May_ we open it?"

"Lesson Two: self-control."

Harry poked at the food on his plate. A few times he looked ready to say something, but then he seemed to remember that whatever he had planned to say would not illustrate temperance.

Marvolo ate his breakfast at a leisurely pace and finally said, "You are excused, Harry."

Harry stood so quickly that his chair fell backward. It would have made a terrible crash, had not Tally caught its back inches above the floor.

"Sorry, Tally," Harry said, putting the chair right.

"Lesson Three:" Marvolo muttered, "we do not apologize to the help."

Harry was dragging the large box toward the table. "Got a knife?"

Clearly, Lesson One had already been forgotten. Marvolo wiped the butter knife clean and passed it to Harry.

Moments later the box was open and Harry was pulling items out of it. He set the invoice on the table first and then withdrew a pair of jeans from the box. "It's our street clothes," he exclaimed. "Look at them. Oh, my gosh...." He studied a designer T-shirt.

"Have you never had new clothes?" Marvolo asked, amazed at Harry's behavior.

"No, actually. Other than school robes, I've always had to wear my cousin's cast-offs."

"I see. I had to make do with second-hand things a lot in my first year as well." He could see that this revelation had struck a chord with Harry, so he went on. "Even though my father was alive, I was raised in an orphanage and had no money."

"It must have been hard," Harry said quietly.

The boy was trying to comfort him! It was a bit insulting, but it was also the strongest connection they had formed so far, and Marvolo was not about to waste it. "It was at first. But I learned to fend for myself. By my sixth year I had students paying me for all sorts of things—help with class work, information, even silence. I was Head Boy, you know."

Harry frowned. "Are you saying you took bribes to not turn people in for breaking rules?"

"It made very good money."

"I can't imagine how much you could have made off some of my friends." Harry actually laughed.

Marvolo smiled involuntarily and wondered how much rule-breaking Harry and his friends got up to. "Some things don't change. But speaking of it, are you going to try some of those on?"

"Yeah, but I need a bath first. Tally, could you get some hot water in the tub? I'm not sure the plumbing's that great."

Tally, who was standing as far from the box of clothes as possible, replied cheerfully, "Right away, Master Harry, sir. Heating water is easy-peasy. Tally will have it ready in no time—"

"Tally will have a sore head if he doesn't stop chattering soon," Marvolo commented to the ceiling.

Tally Disapparated.

Had Harry not been so receptive this morning, Marvolo would probably not have given the elf the benefit of a warning. But he didn't want to have to make this ground up again.

Harry had sorted his clothes from Marvolo's and was trying to arrange them in a way that would allow him to carry them all at once.

"Let me help you," Marvolo said generously. "Hold out your arms."

Harry did as he was told and Marvolo loaded the clothing into his arms.

"Thanks," Harry said, standing up carefully.

"Have Tally refill the bath when you've finished."

"OK." Harry half-smiled.

"What is that look for?"

"Just can't picture you in modern casual clothes."

Marvolo looked down at his outfit. "I suppose I am a bit behind the fashions. But don't write me off as infirm yet. I may be from fifty years ago, but I am still sixteen."

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The bath was heavenly. Marvolo decided it was better than his first taste of wine or bite of food after fifty years. It was so relaxing to just sit back and enjoy the knowledge that he had Harry Potter, his supposed arch enemy, living with him in this house, taking orders and acting downright friendly. It would be sure to impress his supporters. Harry wasn't that bad to have around, either. If he could only be sure of his loyalty, it would probably be well worth the trouble of removing Harry's Trace.

The new clothes were a trifle strange, but Marvolo determined to get used to them: black fitted jeans, a semi-stretchy white button-down shirt with black pinstripes (he left the shirttails untucked, as seemed to be the current fashion), and socks (apparently the word "stockings" was now used almost exclusively by women and the elderly) that felt a little too soft, but which made his new trainers fit perfectly. Last was a black faux snakeskin belt.

The mirror showed a very different look from what he was used to, but the new clothes were surprisingly comfortable. As a finishing touch, Marvolo combed his damp hair back, leaving just that one impish lock hanging over his forehead.

When he and Harry saw each other again, they each took a moment to stare. Harry was in blue jeans (which were actually neither worn nor ill-fitting) and a white designer T-shirt with green collar and sleeves, and a Welsh Green dragon emblazoned across the chest. The green trim brought out Harry's eye color as a startling emerald.

"Wow," Harry said. Then, "Oh, my gosh. The Dark Lord on his day off."

Marvolo smiled indulgently. "You clean up nicely, too."

"Er...thanks."

"Come down to the study. We have some things to discuss."

Harry followed obediently until they got to the room where they had spent hours conducting research on the Trace.

Marvolo offered Harry his own usual place behind a large mahogany desk and stood at his side. "It will soon be time to take action," he said. "We need to set some goals and decide what our first steps will be."

"We're bound to have different goals, aren't we?" Harry looked uncomfortable.

"That is why we need to discuss them. We need to be in agreement. I, of course, intend to rule the wizarding world as we know it. But that is very much a long-term goal."

"Is that really what you want more than anything else—domination?"

Marvolo considered. "I don't know...given the choice, I might take immortality over domination. But I may achieve both."

"Wonderful. And I'm supposed to help you achieve those? Is there anything in it for me, by any chance?"

"My dear Harry, there is everything in it for you. If you should help me to gain immortality, I would help you find yours. If you helped me to gain supremacy, you would rise at my side. Always the two of us."

"But..." Harry licked his lips. "What good is supremacy—or even immortality—if your means of getting there is wrong?"

"Wrong? We have been over this, surely? Right and wrong are just euphemisms for good and evil. Nonsense, all of it...."

"I disagree."

"Do not interrupt. How can you say that something which furthers our purpose is evil or wrong?"

"Because...everyone has their _own_ purpose. And if you further your purpose by interfering with theirs—"

"That is life. Life is a game, and one has to make oneself the strongest player."

"I thought we weren't supposed to interrupt."

This was blatant insubordination and Marvolo knew he couldn't overlook it this time. He stood behind Harry's seat and clamped his hands over Harry's shoulders. "Say your piece, then," he said icily.

Harry responded to the grip with obvious apprehension, but he answered, "If life is a game and you're trying to become the strongest player, then why should I believe you'll take me to the top with you? You think of me as just another playing piece, don't you?"

With one hand, Marvolo tipped Harry's chin back until their eyes met. "Tactics change, Harry. Until now, I have always preferred to work alone. But if I had not chosen to ally myself to you, I would have lost. Your own situation is quite similar," he added. "If you remain loyal to me, we can win this game together. But if you break our alliance..." He tightened his hold on Harry's shoulder until he felt the boy stiffening in pain. "You will lose everything. Your friends, your precious ideals, and most likely your own life. Would it not be better to remain in a position which could help those you care about? To have influence over who is removed and who is preserved?"

Harry was young and naive, but he apparently recognized veiled threats easily enough. A mist was forming over the emerald eyes and his face was hot under Marvolo's fingers. "I hate you," he whispered. "You are the most wicked person I've ever known." His voice broke. "I _hate_ you..."

Marvolo moved to the side of the chair and slowly pulled Harry against him. As he had expected, the younger boy wrapped his arms around his captor, even as he continued to sob out his hatred.

Just days before, Harry had accused Marvolo of taking everything from him. _No,_ Marvolo had said. _Not everything. _He had left Harry one person—the one person Harry hated. The only person he had left to turn to.

Marvolo smiled. Harry was his.

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_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review! __:) If anyone is a good artist and they want to draw Marvolo and/or Harry in ze snazzy new outfit, I'd love to see that! :D My own drawing I attempted of the guys in their street clothes is ok, but I don't have a scanner, alas! Hee hee.  
_


	8. Family

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first seven chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them: __**DarkFilly**__, I had to answer you first because you're such a jerk sometimes... :p After all my trouble to add to the "not-a-slash-story" disclaimer, you __**still**__ had to take that bit the wrong way, didn't you?! Is it not obvious by now that that was strictly a strategic hug? If TR really wanted __**that**__, he could have gotten it ages ago. Harry's not exactly physically strong. No contest. No, that move was a "See, you need me!" hug. Followed by an internal "Ha, now I've got him!" laugh. Sheesh. Sicko. Even if I liked slash I wouldn't go for the child-mol thing (I know, Tom's underage at this point too, but that's moot). Oh, one more thing for you: I did consider Kreature. But I decided I wanted the house-elf to be a potential ally for Harry. A bright spot in his misery, as it were. Obviously Tally has to be loyal to both his masters, but that my prove to be a difficult balancing act. I'm looking forward to making Tally a bone of contention (If you don't know that term, look it up! It's a good one).__**Vanity**__, have you not seen the disclaimers?! It is not and __**will**__ not be slash. So there. __**FrizzleTheDonasaur**__, you have not been reading my answers to reviews, I see, nor have you been paying attention to cannon. If you had been paying attention or if you had bothered to look up the matter before you accused me of making a mistake, you would have realized that Harry's arm had been healed __**before**__ Fawkes brought him Riddle's diary. My story began __**after**__ the poison had already been taken care of. Someone else already pointed out this supposed mistake to me and I thought I had set the record straight, but I say it again in case anyone else didn't get it. __**Please look things up in the books before you point out mistakes—**__it will save us both trouble. If you do find something that doesn't match up, I will most likely be grateful. __**DestroyerandCreator**__, it was the first of December. I have definitely not been working on this since last January. :p __**Inflatable Marshmellows**__, I'm so glad you appreciate Harry's character. Certain people (cough, DarkFilly) don't appreciate the good guys sometimes. Of course, since the story is __**for**__ DF, Harry will have to lose most of that innocence eventually to satisfy her, but anyway... (roll eyes). __**Barranca**__, oh do give it a try! :D What have you got to lose? I wish I had a way to post my own drawings...I did one of Harry poised to stab the diary while Tom pleaded with him, and one of the guys in their duds, as I mentioned. About how much influence Harry could have: it kind of depends on Marvolo's mood, honestly, and how much he comes to like Harry. I mean, Voldy would listen to Snape sometimes because Snape was his favorite, you know? So he might allow himself to be swayed. But beyond that, you'll have to wait and see. __**Xenia Marvolo**__, I strongly disagree with your statement that hate is always borderline with love. I have known both hate and love, and they were never anywhere near each other. Perhaps you are referring to the reality that those we love most have the most potential to hurt us? As to Harry's emotional confusion, he does hate Marvolo at this point, but he's clinging to him because he's never been so alone, and he needs someone to hold on to, even if it's an enemy. I thought that was clear enough, but I guess not.... __**charlemagnebrat1**__, I've been reading your fics and decided not to take your statement about OOC too seriously (not to say I'm not enjoying Unexpected Hero—it's cool). Besides, it's hard to keep Tom __**in**__ character when we know so little about him. All I've got to go on is Book 2 and a little bit from Book 6. I'm decently pleased with my Tommeh._

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who reviewed. You guys rock! :D Now, down to business._

_**Notice**__: Wikipedia says "There is an Office of House-Elf Relocation at the Ministry of Magic." I had forgotten this when I made up the Wizard Employment Agency, but I decided it doesn't matter much, since TR would not want to go to the Ministry for anything, least of all a house-elf. Still, there it is. I did forget that item from cannon._

_**Also**: I don't know if Harry knew about Grindylows at this point, but let's pretend he did, kthanx.  
_

_I don't think there are any spoilers in this chapter, but I won't promise. :p_

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one**__)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly. Hee hee, there's another "headdesk" in this chapter! :D_

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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VIII. Family

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Harry had no idea how long Marvolo had held him, letting him cry against the brand-new pinstriped shirt. All he knew was that his head was pounding and he wanted to be alone.

Marvolo loosened his hold. _"It's all right, Harry,"_ he said in a soft voice which did not seem to suit him.

Harry realized that it was Parseltongue. He looked down at the dragon on his own shirt and imagined that it was a snake. _"Please, leave me alone for a while,"_ he hissed back.

He felt Marvolo's hand caress the side of his face before his request was honored. The study door closed and Harry rested his head on the desk in front of him. Its cool surface revived him a little, but he was too tired to think about what had just happened and what it meant. He was too tired to cry anymore. That was just as well, he reflected. The heir of an evil overlord should never cry.

His face felt stiff from the salt of dried tears and his head still ached, but he felt much more calm now. "Tally?" He called softly. He waited a few moments and was about to call again when the elf appeared.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir?"

"Could you get me something for a headache and something cold to drink?"

The elf nodded vigorously. "What would Master like?"

"Do we have any pumpkin juice?"

"No, but Tally can _poof!_ to Diagon Alley or another place where such drinks are sold, yes. Easy-peasy."

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll have water."

"No trouble, Harry Potter. Tally is doing it all the time."

Harry smiled. "Well, all right. Just make sure not to mention whom you're buying for."

"Whom," Tally repeated merrily. "Master Harry Potter is remembering his Lesson One so proper!"

"You could use a grammar lesson yourself," Harry muttered.

"Goodbye! Tally will be back soon."

True to his word, Tally was gone less than ten minutes. He handed a bottle and a glass of pumpkin juice to Harry. The bottle's label read "Headache Draught."

"How much am I supposed to take?" Harry asked. He was used to dosage being written out on the labels of medicine bottles.

Tally put his palms up in a show of ignorance. "How much does Master's head hurt?"

Seeing that Tally would be no help, Harry unstoppered the bottle and carefully tipped a few drops into his mouth. It tasted terrible, so he washed it down with pumpkin juice. Almost immediately, the pain lessened. "Thanks, Tally. D'you know where Marvolo is?"

"Master You-Know-Who is making plans for Master Harry Potter's new room. Tally thinks Master He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wants to keep Master Harry close by for observation." Tally slapped his own wrist and muttered, "Bad Tally...bad, bad Tally to speculate on Master's business. Not _Tally's_ business. No, it is not."

Harry always felt awkward when house-elves punished themselves. At least Tally hadn't banged his head against the wall. "Right, well...thanks." He gave back the bottle and glass and steeled himself to see Marvolo again.

His guardian was indeed redecorating the room adjoining the master bedroom. Harry hardly recognized the place. The window and bed curtains were no longer floral patterned, but solid emerald green. The furniture, which had been embellished with carved swirls and songbirds, was now either starkly plain or accented with curved snakes.

As Harry stood in the doorway taking it all in, Marvolo turned to face him.

"Well, do you approve?"

Harry nodded slowly. "It's a lot more masculine, anyway."

"It is that. You would have preferred red, I suppose."

"I like green all right." Harry waited until the pause became uncomfortable and asked, "So, what happens now? We were talking about goals...."

"Yes. I need to know the names of my supporters. Can you tell me any?"

"Not for sure, but I think I know one, at least. I'm pretty sure it was Lucius Malfoy that put your diary in Ginny's things at the book shop last summer."

"Malfoy. It's a good pureblood family name. Anyone else?"

"I don't know. Malfoy's nasty son Draco has a couple of friends—Crabbe and Goyle. Their fathers might well be sympathizers at least."

"It's a place to start. I will send an owl to this Lucius Malfoy—people do still use owls, I take it?"

"Yeah, they do. You're not going to invite that man _here_, are you?"

Marvolo smiled. "'That man?' You have a strong dislike for him, then?"

"If I'm right about the diary, then it ranks right above my dislike for Draco."

"But Harry...if he hadn't given it to Ginny, you and I might never have met."

He was wearing _that smile_ again, and Harry knew he was being baited. He wanted nothing more than to declare that he wished they _had_ never met, but he held his tongue. "Am I allowed to set any goals?" he asked.

"Certainly. What did you have in mind?"

Harry hesitated. This was his chance to ask for anything. He shouldn't throw it away on something selfish that could never happen anyway. But doing the right thing had been turning out badly lately. Maybe it was time to be selfish. "I want us to stop pretending and be a real family."

He waited for Marvolo to laugh, but he didn't.

"Stop pretending, I can do. But I've no experience at being part of a real family."

As Harry began to think bitter thoughts, Marvolo went on.

"You may have to teach me what it entails."

Harry felt like there was a lump of lead in his stomach. How could he teach something that was meant to come naturally? "Well.... It's.... Families...." He felt ridiculous. He could feel his face turning red, and he wished something—anything—would interrupt and bail him out.

"Families love," Marvolo said. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

Wishing with all his might that he could Disapparate, Harry muttered, "Yeah."

Marvolo tucked his wand into his belt. "I never had any use for love," he admitted. "From what I have seen, it is a great liability. It makes one terribly vulnerable."

"It does," Harry agreed, "but mainly to the loved person. So...if two people love each other mutually, they won't hurt each other. They can protect each other. In theory."

"In theory," Marvolo repeated. "You expect us to be able to maintain such a mutual relationship?"

"I don't know what I expect. I just know what I'd like to try for."

"You are asking me to make myself very vulnerable to you."

Harry was so embarrassed that he could actually feel the heat rising off his person. "I know that. But I'm already very vulnerable to you. I have _nothing_, Marvolo. Can't you just try? A family is what I've always wanted. Not like the Dursleys—a real family that cares."

Marvolo studied Harry's face a few moments, then turned his gaze to the snakelike legs of the bedside table. "You realize," he said slowly, "that we would be making ourselves vulnerable to not only each other, but to the rest of the world? People _will_ use you to try to hurt me. Do you understand that?"

The question did give Harry pause, but it did not come close to changing his mind. "Yes. I understand. We might keep the family thing a secret if you want."

"And supposing we find that we can _not_ be family to each other—for whatever reason?"

"I'm willing to risk it." Harry held his breath. He could not believe what he was asking—_whom_ he was asking! But he knew he would not be able to stand the life ahead of him if he had no one to trust. Now that he had tried having real friends, he couldn't go back.

"In that case, I have just one more question: do you still hate me?"

Harry wasn't ready for that question. He hardly knew the answer himself. He stared at Marvolo and thought about Ginny, about the basilisk and everyone who had been Petrified. He remembered Apparating for the first time, Marvolo touching his scar and the moment he had realized that he no longer had his mother's protection from him. Ollivander being thrown against the shelves and Tally being threatened. Last he thought of his "guardian's" hand digging into his shoulder as Marvolo threatened to kill his friends.

"Yes. I do."

"Don't you think that might impair familial growth?"

"Yeah, it might."

"One thing I can promise you," Marvolo said grimly. "I will not put more into this than you do. You are the instructor on the family issue."

"OK. We're agreed, then? I help you run your Death Eater camp and you try to...learn...brotherhood?"

Again, Marvolo was wearing the Smile, but for once it didn't bother Harry. He offered his hand and they shook. "Agreed," he said.

Harry felt a tiny qualm about the handshake. The phrase "shake hands with the devil" ran through his mind, but he pushed it away. He was bereft of friends, freedom and magic, but now he finally felt that there was a chance he might learn to like his new lot in life, or at least to tolerate it.

"Now," Marvolo said, turning away from Harry as calmly as if they had just closed a business deal, "Before I go write Malfoy, are their any changes you want made to your room?"

Finding all the green slightly oppressive, Harry decided that the Gryffindor colors should be represented as well. "I don't suppose you could add a bit of gold trim?"

Marvolo seemed hardly to move his wand, but Harry immediately observed a pattern of gold snakes appearing on the drapes. A gold border rippled into being at the base of the bed curtains, and window and bed both sprouted gold curtain cords.

"How is that?"

"Brilliant," Harry said, amazed that Marvolo had such a strong artistic instinct. "Is that Transfiguration?"

"Charms, this time, actually. And I Conjured the curtain cords."

"Did you learn all that at Hogwarts?"

"Mostly. But I add my own flare."

"You certainly do. I guess I'll move my things in here now." Harry paused. "Oh...thanks, by the way."

"You're welcome."

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That night it was Marvolo, not Tally, that put the Warming Charm on Harry's bed and bid him a good night. Harry was so emotionally exhausted that he fell asleep very quickly, even though he was curious to know how Lucius Malfoy would respond to the owl Marvolo had sent that afternoon. He hoped that he wouldn't have to be polite to Draco after this.

When he awoke, Harry still felt wonderfully warm. Something prompted him to turn his head and he saw Marvolo standing in the doorway between their rooms.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Good morning," Marvolo replied. "When you've breakfasted I would like to begin working on your Trace."

"You think you've figured it out, then?"

"Not completely. But I am confidant enough to begin. Do you trust me?"

Harry felt an uncomfortable squirm somewhere in his chest. "Yeah.... Well, enough. For that."

"I hope you are not as honest with your enemies as you are with your family," Marvolo said, favoring Harry with the Smile. "Now come down and eat."

Harry pressed his face into a pillow and whined, "But this is _so_ warm and comfortable..."

Marvolo produced his wand and flicked it at Harry's bed. Immediately, the heat began to drain away.

"Hey—oh, gosh, it's cold!"

"Get up and dressed and you'll feel warmer in no time."

"Grindylow," Harry muttered to Marvolo's retreating form as he climbed from the now frigid bed and began looking for his warmest clothes. He noted that the day was very dark and rainy. Of course.

The temperature of the house really wasn't that bad once Harry was engulfed in a soft black hooded sweatshirt. If the sun had been shining, the house might have been downright warm.

Breakfast perked Harry's spirits a bit, and when Marvolo led him back to the study he felt that he was as ready as he could be for whatever his guardian had planned.

"Drink this," Marvolo instructed, handing a vial of red liquid to Harry.

"Where did it come from?"

"I made it last night. It will probably taste unpleasant, but it won't hurt you."

Harry opened the bottle and tipped his head back to avoid tasting the liquid as much as possible. Even so, he nearly gagged. "Can I drink something else to get rid of the taste?"

"I'm afraid it is best not to take anything else for a few minutes; otherwise it may not have the full effect."

Harry swallowed a few times and grimaced. "Am I supposed to be feeling anything?"

"Not yet. It is a boring potion, really." He paused. "Harry, I think I may have the solution to your other problem—your scar."

"Oh?" From the way Marvolo spoke, Harry doubted he would like the sound of this solution.

"You remember that before I drank your blood, you could hurt me by merely touching me? We now have the opposite problem. I cannot touch your scar without hurting you. Do you see the connection?"

"I think so..." Harry froze. "Wait—you...are you saying that..."

Marvolo nodded.

Harry looked down at the bottle in his hand. "What was in this?" he asked, beginning to feel sick.

"Not blood," Marvolo answered. "I admit, the thought crossed my mind. It could hardly fail to, since the potion was red anyway. But I decided that it would be a very poor start to our... 'family life' if I deceived you."

"Yes, it definitely would. Do you really think it would work? Because I'd want to be sure before I even considered it."

"I can't be sure. You see, there is no documentation on breaking this kind of curse. You are a unique case."

"I feel special," Harry muttered.

Marvolo laughed. "Think about it," he said. "I will not force you."

"You could just...not touch it," Harry suggested tentatively.

"I could. But I hate limitations."

"Can't say I'm surprised. Hey...my head feels a little funny. Not bad, just weird."

"Where?"

Harry slipped the fingers of one hand under the hair behind his ear. "Around here somewhere."

"Good; that means I made the potion correctly. Now I need to perform a spell on you. Don't worry—it won't hurt."

"Right," Harry said, gritting his teeth.

Marvolo uttered a spell which Harry had never heard before. It did not sound like anything he had learned at Hogwarts. Then a strange bluish apparition formed by Harry's head and grew bright and dim by turns. Marvolo consulted a book and took a few notes. "Blue," he said to himself. A moment later he said to Harry, "It looks fairly normal for a boy of nearly thirteen. Now for another test...." He took up his wand again.

Harry was a little less nervous this time and was fascinated to see the ghostly blob turn dark purple, then flash silver, then pale violet, then another flash of silver, then dark red, more silver, scarlet, silver, and finally come to a stop at fiery orange.

Marvolo took more notes very quickly, then waved the hazy image away with his wand.

The strange feeling in Harry's head was beginning to ebb. "So...what was all that?"

"Your pituitary gland," Marvolo answered without looking up.

"And what does it mean?"

"Well, for one thing, you will be very prone to crushes in a year or two."

"Come off it!"

"I am not inventing—two rich shades of purple in a row is a strong indicator of illogical passion. It's here in the book."

"That's so unfair and cruel. Did you learn anything _useful?"_

"Of course. I learned roughly your rate of physical development. No major growth spurts likely, but that's not to say you will be _short_. It's a good thing, really. It will allow us to take our experiments in easy stages and be less likely to do harm."

"I guess that's good then," Harry said, still feeling a bit miffed. "I don't suppose you could tell exactly how tall I'll be or whether my eyes will stay green?"

"That kind of prediction takes an expert. I am not a healer. Although, I have learned a few useful things from these books," Marvolo added, taking Harry's left wrist. He pointed his wand at the cut Harry had made with the sword in the Chamber of Secrets.

The cut was well scabbed over and did not hurt at all anymore, but when Marvolo had murmured a few words over it, it seemed to melt into Harry's arm. Soon he could barely tell where it had been.

"That's great," Harry said. "Will you teach me that? Once we get rid of the Trace?"

"When the Trace is gone, Harry, I will teach you anything you wish to learn."

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_Don't worry, DarkFilly—Marvolo is not going soft! You have to remember that this chapter was from Harry's point of view, so appearances may be deceiving. Thanks for reading! __**Don't forget to review. :)**_


	9. Instruction

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first eight chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them: __**Barranca**__, thanks so much for the compliments. I've read part of only one other Tom-survives story, but from that I agree with you.... :p __**DarkFilly**__, epic cuteness, eh? I like that. Sorry your mom interrupts you from such improving reading! *ahem* __**Amber**__, thanks for being supportive. Short reviews are nice, too._

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far!_

_I don't think there are any spoilers in this chapter, but I won't promise. :p_

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one**__)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly. (Watch for the not-so-subtle allegory coming through. It wasn't on purpose, actually.)  
_

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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IX. Instruction

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Days passed. Marvolo kept a close watch on the _Daily Prophet_, and it seemed that only Dumbledore and a few of his friends and colleagues believed that Lord Voldemort had returned in the form of Tom Marvolo Riddle. There was not a lot that the Hogwarts headmaster could do without support from the Ministry of Magic. His resources would be quite limited—for the moment, at least.

Harry had stopped being so gloomy about school now that he knew the summer holidays had begun, though he still pined over his friends a lot, which Marvolo found very tiresome. He had begun to miss his owl as well. Marvolo offered to find him a new one, but Harry would not hear of it.

One morning Harry informed Marvolo that it was "creepy" of him to stand in the doorway and watch him sleep.

"I merely wish to avoid wasting our time together," Marvolo had explained pleasantly.

Harry sighed. "Look, I'll get up and find you when I wake up, OK?"

"I'm not sure I trust you. You might just lie in bed another half hour after you wake."

"I won't. I promise."

So, mornings had become much more relaxed at the Riddle House. Most days Harry would stumble into the kitchen while Marvolo read the newspaper over a cup of coffee.

Lucius Malfoy's letter had come during breakfast on one such morning. Harry had looked so curious that Marvolo had read it aloud to him.

_My Lord~_

_I am most pleased to learn that your return was successful. Your source is correct: I did plant your diary in the girl's belongings. My family and I are completely at your service. I have some influence at the Ministry and I can put you in contact with a dozen of your strongest supporters at a moment's notice._

_I await further instruction with great anticipation._

_Your Servant, L. Malfoy_

"I knew it," Harry said darkly when Marvolo had finished. "I _knew_ he was all eager to help you. Him and his stupid son!"

"_He_ and his stupid son are now our allies," Marvolo reminded him. "And I think they may prove to be good ones.

"Well, please don't expect me and Draco to be great friends."

"No. Friends are weaknesses, just as families and lovers are. One such weakness is more than enough for each of us."

"Right. What's the _Prophet_ say today?"

"They are still discussing Madam Malkin, Ollivander and that goblin who all positively identified you last week. Dumbledore insists that I am 'Young Voldemort'—they didn't actually print the name, of course; just a V and eight hyphens. Ridiculous. But the press contends that you would not have acted so familiar with me if I were anyone to fear. After all, you declared me as family at Gringott's, and called me your guardian in the robe shop."

Harry nodded. "That's true. But don't they realize I don't _have_ any family or guardian? Other than the Dursleys, I mean."

Marvolo glanced over a part of the story which he did not intend to share with Harry just yet. "People believe what they want to," he said. "They want you to be safe and well, so they invent explanations and believe them to be true."

"I guess. I hope Ron and Hermione aren't too worried. And I hope one of them took Hedwig home with them."

"That owl," Marvolo muttered. If he heard about poor dear Hedwig one more time, he thought he might just throw something at Harry. Or perhaps vomit.

"She's special to me."

"She's an _animal_."

Harry crossed his arms stubbornly.

"After our discussion on liabilities, I'd have thought you would know better than to hang your feelings on something so trivial."

Slowly, Harry lost his stubborn look and appeared defeated. "All right. You win. I don't need her.... I'm sorry."

Marvolo inclined his head to acknowledge the apology before changing the subject. "The robes arrived today. Every-day robes, dress robes, business robes. We will not wear them so much in the summer, of course, but they will help to conceal us when we go out at night."

"You aren't planning to go...Muggle hunting, are you? You said in the Chamber of Secrets that killing Muggle-borns didn't interest you anymore."

There was that innocence again. "It didn't because you were my new target. But we are family now, are we not?"

"I won't help you kill innocent people."

"I have not asked you to."

Harry busied himself spreading jam on toast, no doubt planning out how to tell Marvolo that he couldn't harm other people because it was "wrong."

Marvolo left his place at the head of the table and went to sit beside his charge. "Harry, you need to stop thinking of people in terms of guilt and innocence. It is the same mindset you've always had about good and evil."

"But there _is_ good and evil! We've both seen it—are you going to tell me that your dad abandoning you was not wrong?"

If Harry expected Marvolo to wilt into a puddle of emotion, he was disappointed. "Discussing individual incidents is pointless. Things may happen which do not benefit us, but that does not make them evil."

"You're just dodging because you know you're wrong."

Marvolo took Harry by the back of the neck and pressed his free hand against Harry's forehead.

Instantly, Harry tried to pull away, gasping in pain. Marvolo had to give him credit: he did not scream.

"Marvolo...stop—_please_," Harry panted.

Marvolo waited a moment more, until Harry was nearly falling off his seat, before he released him. Harry leaned across the table, shuddering.

"We may be family," Marvolo said quietly, "but you will not speak to me as you would to one of your school friends. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Harry whispered. "Very clear."

"And do you think that it was evil of me to offer you this bit of instruction?"

"I...I don't know. I can't think."

Marvolo put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It is difficult to let go of something you've believed in your whole life. Give it time. Keep your mind open. I promise, it will get easier. I will help you."

Harry did not answer, but Marvolo did not think it was the stubborn silence of someone who refused to listen. It was the silence of a confused and emotionally drained child. He stroked the back of Harry's neck as he imagined a father might.

"Still hate me?"

Harry nodded, his breathing not yet back to normal.

"Be sure to tell me if that changes."

"I think you'll know. But I'll tell you."

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When Harry had left the room, Marvolo reread a section of the _Daily Prophet's_ story.

_The witnesses all stated that the dark-haired stranger was introduced as either Harry Potter's "family" or his guardian, "Marvolo." But records show that Potter's only legal guardian was his godfather, known murderer and Muggle-killer Sirius Black, who is now serving a life sentence in Azkaban._

Who exactly was this Sirius Black? Harry seemed to know nothing about him. Was he a possible ally? If he were liberated, would he try to usurp Harry's custody? He would fail, naturally, but Harry's feelings had to be considered. The boy had proven himself to be an emotional wreck of late—insisting that they play the family charade more convincingly, expressing both extreme hatred and a need for love, and now getting upset over the good-and-evil issue all over again.

The best thing to do would be to meet with Lucius Malfoy as soon as possible. Marvolo went to the study to compose his second letter to this pureblood wizard.

When he had finished, he called the house elf and ordered that Harry be sent to him. A few minutes later Harry did come, looking quite pale and out of sorts.

"Sit down, Harry," Marvolo told him.

Harry pulled out the chair in front of the desk and sat, but did not move the chair in again. Apparently he wanted to stay out of reach.

"Lucius Malfoy and possibly his family will be coming to see us in a few days," Marvolo began.

"OK," said Harry expressionlessly.

"I want you to look and act your best while they are here."

"OK."

"If any of our guests says or does anything against either of us, you are to let me know immediately."

"All right."

"You may speak to me in Parseltongue if necessary, but save it for a last resort."

Harry nodded.

"And try not to be too nasty to Draco, if he comes."

Another nod.

"Have you heard what I've said?"

"Malfoy or Malfoys coming," Harry recited. "Behave. Watch for tricks. Use Parseltongue if necessary. Suck up to Draco."

"Not quite. We may flatter, but we do not 'suck up.'"

"Right. OK."

Marvolo sat back in his chair. "I think I've given you enough instruction for now. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

After a long silence, Harry said, "If this family thing is going to work, we need to respect each other. I think we can both work on that, yeah?"

Harry was not looking at him, and Marvolo knew he was afraid of going too far, asking too much.

"Very well. We can make an effort together." The words tasted unpleasant, but he knew they were just what Harry was hoping for. "You do still believe in this proposition you made me? A defeatist's attitude will get us nowhere. Harry, look at me."

The green eyes lifted, staring apathetically.

"As long as you are trying to please me, you will have no need to fear me. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded slowly. Then a little life crept back into his eyes and he said, "Yeah, I do."

He still had a long way to go, but he was learning.

"Good. Now, I was hoping to have your Trace removed before we had any visitors, but on further consideration I think that it will require a lot more research. I will not risk doing it wrong."

Harry looked a bit reassured at this news.

"So because you will still be without magic, I will need to put up some intricate spells of protection before they come. I will need Tally's help—"

_**BANG!**_ Tally appeared beside the desk and bowed. "Tally heard Tally's name, sir?"

Marvolo slapped the elf with the back of his hand. "You should know the difference between a passing reference and a call, elf. When you are wanted, you will know. No wonder you were clothesed!"

Tally began to weep. "Tally wished to be certain not to miss anything. Tally is sorry, Master..."

"You should be. Leave us."

Tally Disapparated.

Harry was staring at his hands, looking like he wanted to say something but didn't dare.

"What are you thinking?" Marvolo asked.

"Well...wasn't he trying to please you?"

"He was trying to protect his station. If he truly wished to please me, he would exercise a little more care. He could have Apparated outside the door and then knocked, at the very least."

"I guess you're right. I just don't like seeing anyone get hurt."

"You don't have to like it, provided you understand its necessity. Besides, he is only a house-elf."

Marvolo watched Harry carefully. As he had anticipated, the younger boy looked offended at first, but then the fight left his eyes and he nodded silently. If nothing else, Harry was learning to pick his battles.

"If you have suggestions about warding the house, I would like to hear them. Defensive magic has probably advanced considerably during my absence."

"Maybe so," Harry replied, "but I haven't learned much. The two Defense teachers I've had weren't all that good."

"Ah," Marvolo said with a smile, "having trouble keeping that post filled? I'm glad to hear it. Very well, then. You may watch our preparations if you like—you would probably learn a lot."

"OK," Harry agreed. "Shall I call Tally?"

Marvolo waited a moment to be certain that the house-elf did not appear before he was summoned. "Yes, do."

_If you liked this chapter, be sure to tell me what you liked best in your review! If you didn't like it, let me know what you think could be better. Thanks!_


	10. Allegiance

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first eight chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them: _

_**Blue Flyheight**__, thanks for your insightful review. I think you missed something in chapter 7: Harry found himself in the middle of a catch-22. He could die a hero—for nothing, since Marvolo would be free to pursue his evil plots without him—or he could go along with Marvolo and possibly be able to get his friends' lives spared. He chose to go along with Marvolo, for now at least, and let him go on with his "rule the world" thing in order to save that one life, or however many he can. So I think his decision to "let it go," as you put it, was actually right in character with his hero complex. About his so-called "Slytherin sense," Harry has none, since the term implies that it is sense one gets from being a Slytherin. Just because the Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin does not mean he has qualities that come from __**being**__ one. It means he has qualities that might make him a good one. But that's a technicality, I know. And yes, he is desperate for a family, and he (hero complex again) does think that he just might be able to change the young Dark Lord if he's given enough time and if he goes about it right. Oh, and of course Dumbledore would "take him back," but how far would Harry get if he tried to run? He doesn't know how to Apparate on his own, and he's way out in...who-knows-where? He wouldn't know which way to go. And seriously, Marvolo would find him in about two seconds. Nope, running is not an option. Besides, if he ran, he'd never get the chance to influence Marvolo's decisions. As the latter said, Harry would lose everything. As for hate/love, apathy is definitely not the opposite of either (or both) specifically. Apathy is the opposite of passion, which can be any strong emotion, because apathy is by definition the lack of emotion. Love and hate are both strong passions, and they are at opposite ends of the passion spectrum. They are polar opposites. Hate doesn't (in my humble opinion) connect with love at all. It connects with emotions such as anger, disgust and sometimes fear. Those things have no business being in any kind of association with love. I hope no one ever attempts to love __**me**__ that way! So, to sum up: I see where you're coming from, but I emphatically disagree. (Wow, what a psychology essay I have written...)_

_**lirica**__, since Marvolo is only 16, I think father-son would be pushing it, don't you? :p But you can hang on to hope for a brother thing. ;) Not going to give away just where things will end up, though._

_**chimerashaq**__, thanks so much for the compliments. And I actually __**have**__ been writing for years...I have a college degree in writing. :)_

_**DarkFilly**__, yes, Lucius is coming over. Get over it. xp Thanks for the other comments you sent in your message...glad you liked the little mini-torture, you sick thing.  
_

_**Ilaaris**__, yes, if Harry were older, he'd probably act a tad smarter...but you never know. *cruel chuckle* But frankly, if he'd been older when the whole Chamber thing happened, I think he would have told someone what he knew before rushing down there with only Ron and Professor Lockharte (of all people!) for company._

_**Yuuka Tanari**__, oh my word, I couldn't believe it when I got home and read your review! I had been working on chapter 19 (yes, I have a lot more written than I have typed up and uploaded on the site...be patient. :p) on my break at work, and when I got home, I was like, "Yukka must have been reading over my shoulder!" I won't give away details, but you are right on, my friend. :D_

_**cassia-catta**__, I am so flattered! I think that would be fine, as long as you can assure me that the translation will be accurate and that you will give me full credit for my work. If you have any questions about particular words or idiomatic expressions, send me a message and I'll try to help you out—though I don't speak Russian, of course. I am amazed that you are willing to undertake such a chore! __:) Be sure to send me a link to the Russian version so I can at least see it when it's done. :D_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far! You are great. *hugs*_

_._

_**WARNING**: This chapter includes at least one spoiler for HBP, maybe others. :p_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one**__)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_._

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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X. Allegiance

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Harry learned more in the next few days than he had learned in all his Defense classes together. But Defense was not all he learned. Marvolo taught him a good deal about etiquette, which surprised Harry. Apparently successful flattery depended heavily on a knowledge of manners and traditions, and Marvolo had disciplined himself (and now Harry as well) to learn it all. Which fork is used first? When is it appropriate to make a toast? For what sort of incident is it appropriate to leave one's seat? What is the distinction between a black tie affair and a white tie affair? How the devil do you tie a bow tie anyway? All this and so much more in just a few short days.

The Malfoys had responded to the invitation: all three of them would be coming, much to Harry's disappointment. He made a half-hearted attempt to prepare Marvolo for the friction which was sure to surface ("You do know Draco Malfoy _hates_ me, right?"), but his guardian seemed unconcerned.

Tally gave Harry a magical haircut, and while it did not look precisely _neat_ afterward, his hair was rather less _wild_ than usual.

Half an hour before the Malfoys were due to arrive, Harry felt like a complete wreck. He was so nervous that he felt a bit sick to his stomach. "I'm going to get an ulcer before I'm thirteen," he moaned to Tally as he struggled to tie his necktie. "Look at this...I've been wearing a tie at school for two years and now I can't manage to get this one done up...too much practice on bow ties lately, I expect. What am I doing wrong?"

"Perhaps Tally could help Master Harry Potter."

"No, I've got it now. Thanks anyway. Do I look like a basket case? I sure feel like one."

"Master looks very sharp in his new suit, sir. Yes indeedy."

"You'd say that if I'd put my waistcoat on backward. Oh, well," Harry sighed, looking himself over in the mirror. "It'll have to do."

"The Malfoys will be quite impressed with Harry Potter," Tally predicted.

Harry shook his head. "Who cares? I'm more worried about spoiling things for Marvolo. He's got everything all planned out. Well...I _am_ a bit worried that I'll say something stupid to the Malfoys, or that Draco will try to kill me, but honestly..."

There was a knock at the door between Harry's and Marvolo's bedrooms, and Marvolo called to him. "Are you nearly ready, Harry?"

"Yeah. You can come in."

Marvolo entered and Harry couldn't help doing a double-take. "You look like...I dunno, James Bond or somebody."

After a moment's consideration, Marvolo answered, "Thank you. I see you decided on charcoal grey."

"Is it all right?"

"Certainly. It will make the correct impression. Black is generally considered more formal, but I've been told that it is my best color. And we want to appear to advantage."

"Always," Harry said, hoping he didn't sound too sarcastic.

They went downstairs to wait in the parlor, a room they had not yet spent much time in. Tally had put his morning in ridding it of dust and other signs of disuse.

Harry fidgeted and tugged at his collar.

"Hold still," Marvolo admonished. He stepped in front of Harry and loosened his collar before adjusting the tie. "It is possible to make it look tidy without strangling yourself, you know."

"News to me," Harry muttered. "I don't normally have so much trouble, but...I guess I'm pretty nervous."

"Really?" Marvolo asked, arching an eyebrow. "I never would have guessed. What is it about this meeting that has you so worried?"

"Well...it's a lot of things, actually. But for one thing, d'you think we can trust the Malfoys?"

"No. Not yet, at least. You are afraid they mean to betray us?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. But it's more that if anything does go wrong...I can't use magic. You're all I have now." It probably sounded pathetic, but Harry felt relieved once it was out.

Marvolo did not comment on the level of lameness of Harry's statement. Instead he said soberly, "Someday, Harry, I hope I will be all you _need."_

Voices came from the cloakroom, where the Malfoys were to arrive by Portkey. If everything went according to plan, they would surrender their wands to Tally before being shown further inside the house.

Harry thought the voices sounded surprised, then hushed and cautious. He swallowed. This was it.

The parlor door opened and Tally announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Lucius Malfoy, and son."

The adult Malfoys entered first, and Harry couldn't help taking a step backward. Mr. Malfoy was intimidating as usual, and Mrs. Malfoy possessed a cold beauty that sent a chill down Harry's spine. Then Draco appeared and Harry all but forgot his old rival's parents.

Draco was dressed in a silver-grey suit which matched his cold eyes. His tie was green and silver, and his expression was one of deep interest. When he met Harry's gaze, a closed-mouthed smile slowly dominated his features.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He knew that Marvolo had not told the Malfoys outright that he was living with him, but he also knew that they would have suspected it. Whatever they thought, Harry was fairly sure he would find out all too soon.

The Malfoys all bowed low to Marvolo, who murmured a greeting to each before drawing Harry forward by his side. "I am sure he needs no introduction, but this is my ward, Harry Potter."

Lucius took Harry's hand. "We meet again, Mr. Potter," he said. "And under such more favorable circumstances."

"How do you do, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry said, unable to keep the coldness from his voice. Whatever changes life brought his way, he knew he could never forgive Lucius for giving the diary to Ginny. Of all the innocent young girls he could have chosen, why Ginny?

He was able to put more sincerity into his voice when he said, "Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy."

But it felt wrong to shake Draco's hand. Harry and Draco had never agreed on anything except their mutual hatred, which had been firmly in place since the beginning of their first year at Hogwarts.

"Potter," Draco said, smiling again. "How are you?"

"I'm quite well, thanks. You?" It was the best Harry could do.

"I'm excellent, thank you."

"Harry," Marvolo interjected, "why don't you show your friend around the house?"

_Friend?_ Harry thought, incensed. He knew that he and Draco were being gotten rid of, and he didn't like it at all. But what could he do? He nodded obediently and muttered, "Follow me" to Draco.

Once they gained the hallway Draco said, "Now seriously, Potter, how have you been?"

Harry sighed and turned to face the other boy. "Go ahead. Get it out now."

"Get it out?" Draco repeated.

"The I-told-you-so's and aren't-you-sorry-now's and whatever else you want to throw in there. That."

Draco laughed. "And I was expecting to hear those from you! You haven't changed so much after all. Still a Gryffindor, through and through."

Unsure whether or not he was being insulted, Harry said, "Well, you must think it's pretty ironic anyway—that I've always hated everything to do with the Dark Arts and then the darkest wizard of all time all but adopts me."

"Ironic?" Draco laughed again. "Do you have any notion of how jealous I am of you? You're living my dream. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat. You're _living_ with him, for heaven's sake."

Harry had never heard Draco admit he was jealous of anyone, let alone _him_. "You...you'd leave your family?"

"Hang my family. I'd rather be in your shoes: parents long gone, and a powerful guardian..."

"You'd rather your parents were _dead?"_

"If you had my parents, you would too," Draco said with a shrug.

"That's terrible."

"What's in here?" Draco asked. They had come to the study door.

Harry opened the door a crack. "It's the study. Have a look."

Draco stuck his head through the door and looked around. Harry resisted the urge to shut the door on his neck. Then they walked slowly on.

"You'll see the dining room later on," Harry said, passing by the paneled double doors. "Want to go upstairs?"

"Yes—can't wait to see your room."

Harry half-smiled. "Something tells me you'll like it."

As Harry predicted, Draco loved his bedroom.

"_Green_ and gold?" he asked, grinning. "Not red?"

"Marvolo's idea. But I like it."

"You always call him that?"

"Now, yeah."

"Middle-name basis," Draco sighed. "It's ruddy ridiculous. Say, where's _his_ room? Am I allowed to see it?"

For some reason Harry felt like saying no. But he was sure Marvolo wouldn't mind, and he couldn't think of any way to distract Draco, so he went to the door between the rooms. "It's just through here."

"No way—you've got adjoining rooms?" Draco took a step into Marvolo's room and turned back toward Harry. "You really have no idea how lucky you are."

Harry wasn't sure why having a room next to Marvolo's made him lucky, but he decided it was better not to ask.

Draco did not touch anything in Marvolo's room, but his eyes drank in everything. When he finally tore himself away, he said, "Listen, Potter. Er, _Harry..."_

Harry flinched. It was so foreign to hear his first name coming from that person. But he was too curious to interrupt.

"I know you'd probably like to send a few good hexes my way for some of the things that passed between us at school, but...well, that was all kids' stuff, really. I mean, school is school. Hogwarts students act completely different on the outside."

"What are you saying, Malfoy?"

"I'm saying everything could be completely different now that we've met in the 'real world.' We could even be friends."

Marvolo's words came so readily to Harry that it almost frightened him. "Friends are weaknesses."

He could see that he had actually taken Draco by surprise. The blond boy was silent a long time before he said, "Maybe you _have_ changed more than I thought. All right, then. Not friends."

Though Harry had no clue why, the words stung. He had never wanted to be Draco Malfoy's friend, but now that the opportunity was being retracted he wished he had held his tongue. Perhaps it was because he missed Ron and Hermione. He missed having real friends.

"But we could help each other," Draco went on.

"What exactly do you want?"

"I want to get out. Out from under my parents. Anytime I get to visit a schoolmate is such a relief. Oh, Mother's not so bad, but Father is the devil, I swear. If I could come _here_, though—that would be perfect. It'd keep us all pleased."

Harry found himself feeling a little sorry for Draco, but he was not sold yet. "And what would I get out of it?"

"Whatever you want. Honestly, I'd give anything."

Harry could not think of one thing Draco could offer that could possibly tempt him. But a blank check from a Malfoy was nothing to be sneezed at. "I'll think about it," he said.

"Oh, by the by," Draco said as they started back toward the stairs, "I've been keeping your owl for you."

Harry stopped dead. "_You've_ got Hedwig?!"

"I'm treating her well. Only I think she misses you."

"Why do _you_ have her? And why didn't you bring her back tonight?"

"I didn't bring her because if I'd done anything to spoil this, Father would have _killed_ me, and I'm not joking. You think the Dark Lord would be impressed to see me walk in carrying an owl cage? And the moment she saw you she'd go crazy. I _couldn't_ bring her."

"All right," Harry conceded grudgingly. "But why do you have her, anyway?"

"Because I happened to see that she was still in the owlry on the day we all went home. I guess Hagrid had been looking after her since you went missing. But it seemed a pity to leave a nice one like her up there all summer. So I took her home with me. I admit, I'd planned to keep her, but when Father got your guardian's invitation he said you were almost certain to be with him. So I was glad I'd brought her home. I mean, no one else from Hogwarts would have any idea how to get her back to you. It's sort of pathetic that your friends left her behind. Weasley took your _broom_, for heaven's sake..."

"Good; I _want_ him to have it," Harry snapped.

Draco smiled. "Look, if you have me back here—just for a few days, even—I'll bring her with me. Promise."

"Why can't you just send her to me?"

"Oh, maybe because I don't know where you live?" Draco flashed his eyebrows at Harry with a self-satisfied grin. "I've almost no clue where we are, you know. I notice you've spelled the windows opaque, and we arrived by Portkey. I know he arranged it that way specifically so we _wouldn't_ know where we were going. And do you know what the Portkey was?"

Harry shook his head. Marvolo had explained the mode of travel to him, but he hadn't thought to ask what object would be used.

"A knut. A tiny bronze coin. We could barely all three touch it at once, and that's as close to my parents as I ever care to be, thank you very much. He wanted to make sure we couldn't bring an army with us. Oh, he's clever, Harry."

Harry could hear the hero-worship oozing from Draco's voice and it somehow made it less unpleasant when he called Harry by his first name. "Yeah, he is. Dunno if I'm supposed to tell you this, but he's going to remove my Trace."

Draco actually gaped at Harry, which gave the latter a good deal of satisfaction. "Remove your—gosh, I'm so jealous of you. My eyes'll be greener than yours soon."

Before he could think of an answer to that, Harry noticed a glow coming from under the door of Tom Riddle Senior's room. "Hey..."

"What room is that?" Draco asked.

Harry took a leaf out of Marvolo's book and did not answer. He went to the door and hesitated a moment with his hand on the knob before slowly opening the door.

The strange illumination was coming from an iron register in the floor. Harry approached it cautiously, aware of Draco close behind him.

Through the lattice of black metal, Harry could see the parlor below. Marvolo and Lucius Malfoy were kneeling on the floor, facing each other, with their right hands clasped. Narcissa Malfoy had apparently been given back her wand and she was tracing a pattern of red-gold fire around the clasped hands.

Harry was a bit alarmed at the sight. He did not realize he had frozen in shock until he felt Draco pull him backward very gently.

"Shh," Draco hissed softly. "If we blow this, we're both dead." He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it carefully over the register. Then he knelt beside it and tilted his head to listen.

Harry slowly sank to the floor and crawled over to Draco. "What are they doing?" he whispered.

"An Unbreakable Vow." Draco listened a moment more, then whispered again, "My father is swearing his allegiance." He said no more until he pushed back from the grate and pulled his jacket noiselessly up off the floor. "It's done." He shook his jacket and brushed dust from it.

"How is the vow unbreakable?" Harry asked as they got to their feet.

"If you break it, you die. My father just swore to remain loyal to your guardian and aid him however he's able. Hope he breaks it."

At first Harry was angry that Draco wanted Marvolo to be betrayed, but then the true implication of the statement sank in. "You hate him that much?"

Draco led the way back to the hall. "No...not really. But I feel like it sometimes. Guess you've never felt like that about someone."

"Actually...you'd be surprised." Harry closed the door behind them.

"Really? Who'd you ever hate that you had to live with?"

"Are you joking? Sometimes I just wanted to _murder_ my Muggle uncle," Harry said. But he knew that Vernon Dursley was not the first person who had come to mind—not by a long shot.

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_If I get __**one**__ review that says anything to the effect of "Well, if you won't do HP/TR, maybe you'll do HP/DM!" I will __**not**__ be impressed. Furthermore, I will chew you out. This story is not slash. Period. Other than that, please review! :D_


	11. Honesty

Two chapters in 24 hours...am I nuts?!

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first ten chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:_

_**sam3tron**__, thanks for the platonic support! :D_

_**DarkFilly**__, 1. I figured since Marvolo and Harry weren't leaving the house, and since it is supposed to be summer, robes would be a bit superfluous. The Malfoys probably wore robes since they had no way of knowing what climate to expect, but they left them in the cloak room. I'll get them in robes at some point. :p 2. Yes, better off with the devil you know, right? 3. After all, Marvolo needs to be sure Lucius won't double-cross him. He's got to play it smart. 4. Yeah, bad Draco. Isn't it great? 5. I agree—do-it! Do-it! 6. Yes, I was so excited when I passed 100 reviews. I never expected to get there when I started. 7. I like sending you mail on HI. I figure there's a chance you might log on there before you check your email next. But if I must stop, I must._

_**Barranca**__, I think they're backing off now. I hope. Anyway, as for how this will end...it's going to end two ways. One to satisfy DarkFilly and one to satisfy me. You can stop at DF's if you like it to end that way or keep reading afterward. :) So hopefully both camps will be happy eventually._

_**Xx starlight-moon xX**__, thanks for the support and compliments. It's nice to see that you are missing little as you read. *Loves to be appreciated* This story has never been a one-shot, but I did publish chapter one on Fiction Alley—if you frequent that site you may have seen it. I haven't put any more of it on there yet because it didn't get much support. So I haven't bothered. :)_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. I particularly like the support for the platonic angle. So have some platonic love from me: *hugs*_

_._

_**WARNING**__: This chapter includes spoilers for OOTP, maybe others. :p_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one; **__the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_._

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XI. Honesty

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Marvolo was not about to let himself get too cocky, but thus far everything had gone at least as well as planned, if not better. Lucius Malfoy had made a vow which would keep him from any form of treachery. His wife was clearly dutiful and followed as her husband led. As for their son, Harry had obviously exaggerated how disagreeable Draco could be. Or perhaps the boy simply had new respect for Harry due to his change in fortunes. In any case Draco was polite, got along with Harry and showed a precocious sense of when to speak and when to keep silent. He would be someone to watch.

At dinner, both younger boys did much more listening than talking. Draco knew his place and Harry was learning his. And thinking of Harry's place reminded Marvolo of another order of business...

"If for some reason I am unavailable," he continued his conversation with Lucius, "the Death Eaters are to take orders from Potter, without exception. He is my heir, and in my absence you are to heed him as you would me."

Lucius was no doubt surprised at this statement, but he hid it well. "I will be sure to pass the word to your followers, my lord."

Marvolo saw that Harry was the most surprised by this development.

Though Draco rarely spoke, his eloquent gaze divided most of its attention between Marvolo and Harry. The boy was supremely jealous. At last he became dissatisfied with his thoughts and gathered the boldness to speak. "Harry tells me you plan to remove his Trace."

Harry looked quite unnerved at this revelation, but Marvolo was anything but angry. Why should Harry disclose such information to someone he claimed to dislike? It must have been a boast, and Harry's bragging about him could be nothing but a good sign. "That is true," he said. "We do hope to discover a way to remove it manually."

"Well," Draco went on, shooting cautious glances at his parents, "I just thought that if you needed any information from the Ministry end...Father has quite a lot of influence there."

Lucius nodded. "I am also a school governor of Hogwarts. Had Mr. Potter returned unscathed from the Chamber of Secrets, I might have lost that position for questioning Dumbledore, but as it is, Dumbledore's position is still in question because of your ward's disappearance."

"I always knew Dumbledore would be headmaster one day," Marvolo remarked. "But I must say, this is not quite how I imagined causing him to lose the post."

The Malfoys laughed politely, but Marvolo noticed that Draco merely smiled broadly, the only one who was genuinely amused.

"There is a way to fool the Trace," Lucius said thoughtfully, "but it has never been tested, to my knowledge. A rather simple way, though it will require careful planning."

"Planning is my specialty. What is it?"

"In the Department of Mysteries, there are many things being researched: the mind, Life, Death, Time. Most of them are still not very well understood, whatever Ministry officials say. However, in the Time Room there is an encapsulated life span. It was taken from a hummingbird by raising it from egg to death and magically recording its life in a completely isolated environment. Such a practice is now illegal, but the full potential of this captured life span may never be tapped."

Marvolo was intrigued. "And the Trace?" he prompted.

"From what I have seen and heard, anything placed within the bird's life span gains or loses age at an enormously accelerated rate and can be removed at the desired age. The capsule is nearly large enough to admit a human."

One glance at Harry told Marvolo that his ward was terrified. "It sounds well worth looking into. The difficulty then is getting into the Department of Mysteries without being seen?"

"Yes. But I am sure it can be managed."

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When the Malfoys were ready to leave, Marvolo saw Draco draw Harry conspiratorially away from the others to say a bit more than goodbye. When they shook hands it had all the earmarks of a contract. Perhaps the boys had learned to get along a little _too_ well.

The Malfoys bowed to Marvolo before Tally led them back to the cloakroom where they were to depart.

Harry shuffled awkwardly back toward Marvolo. "So, did I do all right?" he asked, eyes on the floor.

"You did very well," Marvolo replied, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders and walking him toward the stairs. "I was proud of you."

"Thank you." Harry sounded a bit awed, as if no one had ever expressed pride in him before. Perhaps no one had. "I...was proud of you, too."

Mildly surprised, Marvolo asked, "Do you still hate me, Harry?"

"Um...I dunno. I hate things _about_ you, things you've done. But that'll probably never change." Harry sighed. "I don't know," he repeated. "It's confusing."

"Take your time."

"Speaking of time...You think that thing in the Department of Mysteries can make me older?"

"If Malfoy was telling the truth. And I have reason to think that he was. Does it frighten you?"

They had paused in the hallway outside their bedroom doors. Harry leaned against his door frame.

"Yeah, it does. A lot of things about it scare me. First off, Malfoy said it was _almost_ big enough for a human. Does that mean I'll have to choose which parts of me age four-plus years? Could I end up with the head knowledge of a seventeen-year-old and the body of—I mean, seventeen is an _adult_. Will I be this very mature guy who has trouble controlling his...passions? _Please_, don't look at me like that."

Marvolo was smiling intensely. Harry and his priceless innocence. "Whatever it does, I will not let anything terrible happen to you. If the result is unpleasant to you, we will find a way to reverse it."

Harry bit his lip. "I think you mean that, and I want to believe it, but I can't help being afraid. I'm not ready to grow up that fast."

With practiced gentleness, Marvolo took Harry by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "I need you to learn to trust me," he said softly. "I know it is hard for you, but the more you trust, the easier it will become."

The younger boy was still afraid, but Marvolo could see the sincerity in Harry's eyes when he said, "I'll try."

_That's my boy_, Marvolo thought. He knew he was being unfair to Harry—they had agreed to stop pretending and here he was playing the caring father figure role—but it wasn't as if he secretly hated the boy. In fact, he hadn't thought about killing Harry for a few days in a row, now. He was eager to see whether they really could remove the Trace. If Harry died in the process it would be a disappointment, but he would not waste precious time mourning. Harry was not a necessary part of his plans, after all. And he certainly did not _care_ about him.

"Good night," Harry said, pushing his door open.

Marvolo released him and answered his nightly farewell. Harry had said good night to him almost every evening since they had come to the Riddle House. Marvolo was beginning to anticipate it, and when Harry failed to seek him out before bed it seemed to be an indication that his ward was feeling particularly distant from him. Today had been a good day.

-----------------------------------

Marvolo had always been what his roommates at Hogwarts dubbed a "selectively sound sleeper." Drop all your books on the floor an hour past curfew and he would not so much as twitch. But start gossiping about him on the other side of the room and he would start awake immediately and demand to know what had been said.

That night Marvolo's subconscious was exploring the possibilities of the Time Room in the Department of Mysteries through a series of fantastic and highly entertaining dreams. He was just about to try making himself a year or two older when Harry called him. He turned to see Lucius Malfoy holding Harry's wrists behind his back.

"Leave me alone!" Harry cried.

The Department of Mysteries began to fade. Realizing he was in a dream and that he would soon awaken anyway, Marvolo threw himself up toward the surface of his lake of dreams.

He emerged sitting up in his bed where he shook the last droplets of sleepiness from his hair. The dream was gone, but Harry was still screaming.

Marvolo thought of letting Harry ride out his nightmare, but this was too great an opportunity to build Harry's trust in him. He got up and took his wand from the bureau. By its light he went to the door between their bedrooms and turned the knob. The door, which could be locked from either side, was bolted.

Harry's cries had turned to more subdued moaning now. Marvolo murmured "_Alohomora_" and entered Harry's room. Once in a while he could make out a word or two in the jumbled sleep-talk.

"Let me go," Harry pleaded with an invisible captor.

Marvolo was about to wake him when Harry said his name again.

"Marvolo, please! Don't...."

Harry had not been calling to him after all. He had been begging for mercy.

What would it be like to awaken from a dream of torment to the comfort offered by your tormentor? No, Marvolo decided, waking Harry was not the thing to do.

He turned to go and saw that the door to the hallway was open a crack. Not locked—not even closed all the way! Yet their shared door had been locked. Obviously Harry still feared him in waking life as well as in his dreams.

Marvolo did not reclose the door on his way back to bed. Let Harry make what he would of its being open.

-----------------------------------

At breakfast Harry said nothing of his dream, and Marvolo did not ask. Harry might very well not remember it at all anyway.

The _Daily Prophet_ had little new to report on Harry's disappearance or the efforts to find him. There was, however, a quote from Harry's friend, Ron Weasley: "Harry's bloody brilliant, and if he were dead we'd have heard about it by now. He'll be back."

Harry seemed uncertain how to respond to seeing his friend's confidence in him in print. First he seemed pleased and then depressed.

There had been nothing more reported on Harry's godfather. According to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, Sirius Black had never shown much support for the Dark Arts and had shown what they believed to be his true colors when he was sorted into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts. Still, it did appear that his sanity had cracked and perhaps driven him back to his family roots, deep in the dark side.

But no matter. Ally or enemy, Black was securely locked away for the time-being, and Harry seemed still unaware of his existence.

"Did you like having Draco here?" Marvolo asked, folding up the _Prophet_.

"Never thought I'd say this, but yeah. I'm glad he came," Harry admitted.

"It's nice to talk to someone your own age once in a while."

"Yeah, it is. I actually wouldn't mind having him over again sometime. If that's OK."

"I don't suppose this change of heart has anything to do with your owl?"

It was amusing to watch the phases of Harry's expression: amazement, denial, guilt, worry.

"Lucius Malfoy told you Draco has her," Harry guessed.

"He did indeed. Why didn't you?"

"Well...I don't know. I guess I was afraid you wouldn't let me have her back."

"So you schemed with Draco to get her here without discussing it with me."

Harry was the picture of guilt. "I wasn't thinking of it that way. Honestly."

"I offered to get you an owl. I don't mind if you have that _particular_ owl. The only issue I have with her is that you seem terribly attached to her."

"I won't let it be a problem. I swear, I won't."

Marvolo searched Harry's eyes. Yes, he meant what he was saying, but he knew it could be difficult to keep his word. "Very well. But there must be no more secrets between us, Harry."

The eyes were telling a new story now, to match the barest hint of bitterness in Harry's voice when he answered, "No secrets."

"Are you angry because I have not told you all that passed between the Malfoys and myself?"

"I'm not angry," Harry said, looking surprised again. "Well...I do wish you'd be honest with me if you expect me to be honest with you."

"Very well. I will recount as much of what you missed as I can readily remember, though I dare say you caught part of it from the room above."

This time Harry made no obvious effort to hide his shock. "You knew?"

"I suspected. I have noticed that I am becoming able to sense you when you are close by. I believe it is because it was your blood that gave me life."

"Great. No sneaking up on you, then."

Marvolo smiled. "Not unless I am greatly distracted." He told Harry about his conversation with Lucius: that there were a dozen of his supporters still free and ready to come to his call, how Lucius had sworn to serve him, and about the pureblood families who had sympathized with his cause, if not openly supported it.

Harry took the information in with a pensive frown. "And once you have all those people...what then?"

"Then the quest for power will truly begin."

"And the killing?"

Such a bright fire in those young, bespectacled eyes.

"Power is not always gained by killing. But killing is sometimes necessary."

Harry clenched his jaw and did not answer.

A change of subject was in order. "Do you still want Draco to visit?"

"Yes."

"All right. I will keep it in mind as I plan our social calendar."

----------------------------------------

_Thanks for reading; please review!_


	12. The Plan

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first eleven chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:_

_**Xx starlight-moon xX**__, Marvolo doesn't mind dangerous games in the least, as long as the danger is not to __**him**__. ;)_

_**Aoi Mitsukai**__, thanks for the support! :) I think the slash addicts have given up on me. There are plenty of other stories out there for them—they don't need mine to go that way._

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. As usual, you guys rock! :D_

_._

_**WARNING**__: This chapter includes minor spoilers for a couple of the books._

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one; **__the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_._

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XII. The Plan

-------------------------------------

Though Harry did not really want to deal with Dobby again, it seemed the best way to get his Invisibility Cloak back. He very nearly kept his plan to himself, but he had just given his word to Marvolo not to keep secrets from him. And although he still did not completely trust his guardian, he did hate to break his word. This was not like the lie he had told Professor McGonogall just weeks ago at school—that had been for the good of Hogwarts, really. Making and breaking a promise was something very different.

Marvolo seemed to like the idea of Harry's having an Invisibility Cloak, and he approved Harry's plan to get it back.

"It is not what I would call brilliant," he commented, "but neither is it reckless. Give me a report when it is done."

So Harry had enlisted Tally to fetch Dobby. The two house-elves did not think much of each other and Harry suspected that there was some history between them, but he did not ask.

Dobby appeared more frenzied than ever and kept up a stream of muttering. "Harry Potter should not be here—bad Dobby!—and Dobby should not be here either..." Dobby took a moment to bang his head against Harry's wardrobe.

"Dobby," Harry said, losing patience, "shut up and listen to me!"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said, slapping himself once across the face with a seeming finality.

"Do you know where my school things are?"

"Yes, Harry Potter. Harry Potter's school friends wished to divvy Harry Potter's things as souvenirs, sir. But Professor Dumblething insisted that Harry Potter's things be packed up and kept in storage, sir. Dobby heard it from Hogwarts house-elves. But Mr. Wheezy took Harry Potter's broom, and Harry Potter's girlfriend took his Cloak, sir."

"What—Hermione?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry shook his head. "Don't ever call her that again."

"No, sir." Dobby slapped himself again.

"Dobby, do you think you could get the Cloak back?"

"Er...yes, Harry Potter...but the Herminey girl will probably grow very suspicious when she finds it gone, sir."

"I know...I'll give you a message for her. But please, don't let yourself get seen. Hermione's parents are Muggles. You might scare them to death."

It took Harry a lot longer to write his message than he had thought it would. Hermione was probably worried sick. He couldn't just say, "Hullo, Hermione. Needed my Cloak. Hope you're well. Harry." He took a deep breath and set quill to parchment.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. I know you're probably very worried and everyone's wondering where I am, but I can't come back yet. I'm writing because I need my Invisibility Cloak, and I didn't want you to think someone had stolen it. You can tell Ron you've heard from me, but please destroy this note and don't tell anyone else about it. The longer no one has word of me, the better. Please try not to worry. I'm well and safe for the moment."_

Harry paused before closing the note. He hadn't really told her anything; the note would give Hermione more questions than answers. But he could not give her clues. She was just too clever.

_I miss you._

—_Harry_

He folded the note and gave it to Dobby. "Don't you _dare_ let anyone else see this note, got it? Only Hermione."

Dobby nodded solemnly. "If Dobby fails his mission, he will boil his head."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just don't fail, OK?"

Dobby saluted and Disapparated.

He was back in less than twenty minutes, though his nose was all Harry could see.

Harry yanked the Cloak off Dobby. "I didn't say to _wear_ it."

"Dobby is sorry." Dobby whacked his head against the floor since he was not near any furniture.

"Did you see Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Harry Potter. Dobby was careful not to be seen, but he watched Harry Potter's friend read his message."

"And...how did she react?"

"First she became trembly with excitement, sir, and read the note many times over very fast. Then she started to cry, sir. She cried and read the note a few more times, and Dobby thinks she was trying to memorize it. Then she tore it up and threw it away. She was still crying when Dobby left, sir."

Harry's throat felt very tight. "Thanks, Dobby," he said thickly. "You can go."

When Dobby was gone, Harry shut himself in his room, bolted both doors and sat on the edge of his bed, running his Cloak through his hands. He had hoped Hermione would take some comfort from knowing he was all right. Instead he seemed to have upset her more. Not for the first time, Harry thought of fleeing the Riddle House. His friends would hide him. Dumbledore would protect him. But at what cost? Marvolo was all composure on the outside, but Harry knew he concealed a wicked temper and a thirst for vengeance. He would not let anyone keep his heir from him.

Besides, their lives were tied, weren't they? Even if Dumbledore could protect him for a while, Harry knew he would have to face Marvolo again, sooner or later. He had started this thing and he needed to finish it. It was better not to involve his friends, no matter how much he missed them.

When he had regained his composure, Harry went to report his success as Marvolo had requested.

"Your plan went as you intended," Marvolo observed. "Why are you upset?"

_Blast_, Harry thought. _He can always tell!_ "It's my friends," he said. "I know they're really worried. I just wish I could see them. Let them know I'm OK."

"That is out of the question."

"I know. But you asked."

"So I did. You are going to have to let these friends go eventually, Harry. They make you weaker."

Harry nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing. "It's hard, though. They were the first people I can remember actually caring about me." He waited, feeling awkward until Marvolo broke the silence.

"Perhaps I should ask Lucius to bring Draco along when he comes to discuss our trip to the Ministry. Would you like that?"

"Well...it'd probably help. Keep my mind off things. Thank you."

"I will send them word right away."

"When will they come?"

"In three nights. It will be an informal occasion, so you needn't wear a suit."

At first, Harry welcomed this news. Then it occurred to him to ask, "Will you wear a suit?"

"I will be conducting business. Yes; I will."

Harry nodded. "Well, it's my business, too. So I'll wear a suit as well."

Marvolo smiled slowly, the way that would have made Harry shudder if he were not beginning to get used to it. "As you choose."

--------------------------------------

Draco, oddly enough, was true to his word. The moment he arrived he reunited Harry with his owl.

"Thanks so much," Harry said sincerely, opening the door on Hedwig's cage.

The owl ran up Harry's arm to perch on his shoulder and nibble his ear.

"Ow—nice to see you, too," Harry chuckled.

"It was no trouble," Draco said. "Thanks for keeping your end up."

Harry watched Marvolo and Lucius Malfoy walking away toward the study. "Oh, my end wasn't any trouble either. I think Marvolo thinks you're good for me."

"Oh, I _am_," Draco drawled. "So, have you got anyplace to play Quidditch around here?"

"No; too much risk of being seen."

"By wizards or Muggles?"

"Doesn't make much difference, does it?"

Draco smiled. "I think your guardian's rubbing off on you. You're choosing your words more carefully these days. So much for figuring out where we are. What do you do around here for fun?"

_Nothing_, Harry thought to himself. Aloud he muttered, "Oh, _loads_ of things...get drunk, torture the house-elf..."

"Both very admirable pastimes," Draco replied, "but somehow I can't see you doing either one. I wish Father would let me get _my_ Trace removed. Then we could practice dueling. You need it."

"Says you," Harry snorted.

"You know you couldn't best me."

"Bet I could if you'd stop cheating for five seconds."

A shadow crossed Draco's face, but it passed quickly. "If you _really_ have to duel someone someday, do you think they'll bother with formalities and rules?"

"That wasn't exactly the point. _We_ weren't supposed to be 'really dueling.'"

"All right, all right. What do you want—a written apology?"

"That'd be nice," said Harry with a smile. "Anyway, you need to teach me that spell—the serpent one."

"_Serpensortia_? All right, but it takes a lot of practice. Not really your style, either. Now _Rictusempra_, that was you all over."

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "Well, it had you in stitches."

"Should've got me again while I was down."

"I'm still warming up to dirty fighting. I'll do better next time."

Draco laughed. "Say, if you were to visit _me_ at the Manor...the Ministry can't tell for sure whether it's an underage wizard performing magic if there are adult wizards living in the same house, you see. To do that they'd have to do a lot of bothersome digging and file for a Trace History, and it's just not worth it. But if they detect magic around an underage wizard someplace like your uncle's house where no grown wizards live, they've got you."

"So you're saying you do magic at home all the time and get off scot-free?"

"Not all the time...but a lot, yeah. But I think I'd rather be here without magic than home with it."

"You must really hate it there—almost as much as I hate being at the Dursleys' house." A thought striking him suddenly, Harry lowered his voice and asked, "Do they hurt you?"

"Not that it's any of your business, Potter," Draco snarled, looking away.

"Sorry. It's just that I'm starting to think we really have a lot in common."

"Hurrah. Let's start a club: Society for the Freedom of Abused Underage Wizards."

Harry smiled wryly. "Yeah. We can call it 'Without a Trace.'"

They laughed and Harry realized that it felt wonderful to have someone his age to laugh with. Maybe Draco _was_ good for him after all.

"Come upstairs so I can put Hedwig in my room," Harry said.

"Do you think I can stay for a few days?" Draco asked as they headed upstairs.

"I dunno yet. I can ask, I guess."

"How much leeway have you got with him, anyway?"

Harry thought Draco looked hungry and jealous again. "To be honest, I don't really know. Some days I think he'd give me whatever I wanted, and other days it's like I haven't the right to ask anything."

"A bit moody, is he? Well, all the great ones are, I've heard. How does he treat you overall?"

"Still figuring that one out, too."

Harry put Hedwig's cage on top of his bureau with its door open so she could enter and leave it as she pleased.

"Well—what _can_ you tell me about him?" Draco persisted.

After a moment's consideration, Harry said, "He's very clever. So clever it really scares me sometimes. And very powerful. And he's only sixteen—I can't imagine how powerful he was when...well, how powerful _Voldemort_ is."

Draco was obviously shocked that Harry could say Voldemort's name so casually, but he did not comment on it. "If he comes back—the older one, I mean...will he and himself band together, or what?"

Harry shuddered. "I don't like to think about that. Whatever happened, I doubt it would be good news for me. I hope he never comes back."

When their curiosity overcame their caution, Harry and Draco went down to the study and Harry knocked at the door.

"Enter," Marvolo called.

Harry opened the door and led Draco into the room where Marvolo and Draco's father were discussing plans over glasses of wine.

"How's the planning?" Harry asked, instinctively moving to stand by Marvolo's chair. He did not look at Lucius.

"See for yourself," Marvolo said, gesturing to a chart spread over his desk. "Simple plans are often best. We will enter the Ministry by the visitor's entrance about four in the morning." He pointed out the entrance on the chart. "Because the security wizard would raise the alarm if he saw you, you will remain hidden under your Cloak. At an opportune moment, we will Stun the guard and I will adjust his memories so he will believe the night passed without incident. From there Lucius will lead us to the Department of Mysteries. The entire trip should take us less than an hour."

Harry had to admit that the plan sounded like it would work, and he was glad that Marvolo had said they would Stun the security guard and not kill him. "Sounds good," he said. "When will we try it?"

"Tomorrow night, unless you know a reason not to."

"Can't think of anything." Harry saw Draco trying to catch his gaze over the desk. "Er...could Draco stay over until then?"

Marvolo looked to Lucius.

"Draco has accompanied me to the Ministry before," Lucius said slowly. "It would not seem too unusual if he were to come along."

"Very well," Marvolo said. "Draco may stay. You will see that Tally makes him comfortable in the guest room?"

"Yes, sir." Harry stood there awkwardly a moment before saying, "If you'll excuse us...." He tried not to hurry too much as he made his exit.

Draco closed the door behind them. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"He really makes you nervous, doesn't he?"

"_Which one?"_ Harry muttered.

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_Did you enjoy? I enjoy your reviews! Please leave one. X)_


	13. The Department of Mysteries

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first twelve chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:_

_**enchanted nightingale, **__you'll see, you'll see... :p The Lucius issue is not really a vital component of the story; it's more there to make Harry more sympathetic toward Draco, but I won't just leave it there._

_**Aisling-Siobhan**__, if he's your favorite character then I can see why you don't like how I'm writing him. But honestly, in cannon he's not exactly a responsible, nurturing father. But don't worry—this will not turn into an "All Draco Needs is Love" story. Tee hee._

_**Tempete Sanguine**__, I think __**more**__ than half of fanfic is boring and unoriginal. But I'm glad you think my story is neither. :)_

_**Jukeboxx**__, I prefer fast pacing and lots of dialogue. I guess it's kind of lazy on my part to not put in more description, but I am sometimes so eager to get down the characters' thoughts or what they will say next that I don't bother. Shame on me. Oh, and you kind of __**have**__ to add to the HP universe if you're going to stray at all from cannon. I do my best not to break any of the clearly stated rules, though._

_**Barranca**__, ah, this is an interesting question, but I am quite sure I have the answer. In OOTP, __**(SPOILER ALERT!)**__ a certain Death Eater gets his head in the jar by mistake (I love that part!) and pulls it out when it is at the baby stage. He cannot speak and seems quite unaware of his surroundings, or at least their significance. He blunders around doing more harm to himself than to Harry and Company. Furthermore, when Harry moves to hex it, Hermione declares, "You can't hurt a baby!" Obviously, the Death Eater did not retain his head-knowledge from his adult life. Conversely, I think it is safe to assume that if the Death Eater had pulled out his head in the old-man stage, he would have __**gained**__ some level of knowledge. So Harry's fears are quite reasonable when he worries about being a mature guy with hormone issues. (Ha ha, I'm so mean to my characters!)_

_**brightandsunny**__, please read Barranca's answers above. __:) I also thought that if Harry ended up older than Marvolo it would be interesting, to say the least. Hysterical, actually. Hee hee. But you shall have to wait and see... Cruel cliff-hangers. :p Harry's nightmare was not meant to be terribly significant, but DarkFilly gave me an idea for an encore occurrence, so I may well be putting another one in. We'll see. At this point, Marvolo has no clue about the prophecy, and I'm not sure that Lucius does either. I'm thinking not, just to simplify things. Call me selfish._

_**ams71080**__, I am a Harry/Ginny fan, partly because I am a writer and like to respect the author's wishes in almost every case, but also because I think she is a great character...or __**would**__ be if JKR had written more about her! I firmly believe that the reason so many people dislike Ginny is because we hardly hear anything about her until Harry realizes he likes her. *roll eyes* Very annoying. Having said that, I repeat, this is not really a romance story at all, Harry is twelve (for now! Hee hee), and if there is any puppy love, it won't be all that significant (and if Harry ends up seventeen, Ginny will be way too young for him, right?!)._

_**MyraHellsing**__, ha ha, "icy-blondie!" Nice. I do like it when people comment on specific quotes. It lets me know what people are enjoying most and encourages more of the same. :D_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. As usual, you guys rock! :D_

_._

_**WARNING**__: This chapter includes MAJOR spoilers for OOTP. It has some nearly exact quotes from the book and a lot of half-borrowed description. Ye be warned!_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one; **__the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_This chapter contains another wine reference...if my info is off please forgive me—I've never had wine in my life and I'm not too knowledgeable on the subject. :p  
_

_._

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XIII. The Department of Mysteries

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Marvolo did not make Harry sit through any lectures on bloodlines or new spells the next day, opting to allow him to spend time with Draco as he chose. He watched the two boys closely, but not intrusively. Draco seemed to be in complete awe of him, but he did not get in the way or make a nuisance of himself. Lucius had trained him well. It was a pity that Harry had not had the benefit of a similar upbringing, but perhaps Draco would rub off on him.

They spent a good deal of time in the cellar where they had discovered an old pool table. Harry taught Draco the Muggle game in a very short time and Draco took to it immediately.

"Where'd you learn pool anyway?" Draco asked Harry at lunch. "Did the Muggles actually let you play sometimes?"

Harry shook his head. "My cousin Dudley has a pool simulation game on his computer. I'd play it sometimes while they were out. Oh...do you know what a computer is?"

"I've heard of them," Draco said darkly. "Not sure how much I believe about them, though."

"Well...anyway. It's really different playing it in real life. I know _how_ to set up a good shot, but I'm not that coordinated yet."

"That your excuse for my nearly beating you last game?"

"No, that was pure luck! I'll _kill_ you next time. Er..." Harry looked up at Marvolo. "Did you have anything planned for this afternoon?"

"No. You two may 'run along and play,' as they say."

Marvolo saw that Harry was biting his lip to keep from laughing, and Draco looked as if someone had just reminded him that his birthday was coming up.

Apparently the boys spent a bit of time taking inventory of the wine in the cellar, because when dinnertime approached, Harry told Marvolo, "Draco reckons he'd like to try some armagnac with supper. Is that OK?"

"Is Draco a connoisseur?" Marvolo asked with interest.

"I guess. I get the idea he was raised on the glass of wine with dinner thing. He says it'll be aged just about right, now."

"He is correct. Tell Tally to serve the armagnac, then."

Dinner was a more quiet affair than lunch had been. Harry was becoming nervous about their mission.

"You two should get to bed early tonight," Marvolo said, breaking a silence that had lasted several minutes.

"OK," Harry gave his standard reply.

They would really need to work a bit on decorum. Marvolo also decided that Harry needed instruction in stoicism. It was useful, for the time-being, to be able to read Harry like a book, but it could lead to disaster if others could do the same.

"Have you enjoyed your stay with us, Draco?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Very much." Draco looked a little wistful. "I'm sorry I'll be leaving soon."

It was bold of him, Marvolo thought, to make such an obvious hint. Was it the pleasure of the visit or the dread of returning home that made him want to stay? Probably both. Draco did seem to be doing Harry good, but Marvolo wanted a bit of privacy after Harry's Trace was removed. They would be very busy for a few days.

"You will see us again before too long, I am sure."

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An acute sense of hearing was one of Marvolo's many gifts. As he prepared to retire that evening, he could hear Harry and Draco speaking in hushed tones next door. He moved silently to the door between the rooms and listened.

"Why not?" he heard Draco whisper.

Harry answered in a low voice, "Because Marvolo might get the idea he should use you as a guinea pig."

"A guinea pig?"

"A trial run. To see if it works before they try it on me. Wait until mine is done, and then—"

"Can't stand to be second?"

"No!" Harry lowered his voice further. "It's just if something goes wrong, I don't want it to be my fault."

"Your fault! Noble, but conceited as ever. If it's my choice and you have no hand in it, how can you call it your fault?"

There was a rustle of clothing then. A moment later Marvolo heard Harry speak again.

"We're not at school anymore, Malfoy. I'm not going to let you push me around. If you want to try getting in on it, fine. But wait until after. Got it?"

"All right," Draco relented, sounding much less confident. "I just think my chances are pretty slim if I wait until the last minute."

"Well, I'll put in a word for you if I can. But I'm not changing my mind."

Marvolo moved away from the door with a satisfied smile. Harry was learning to stand up for himself—to his peers, at least.

A few minutes later, Harry came to their door to say good night as usual. He was wearing a T-shirt under his dark green dressing gown.

"Harry," Marvolo greeted him, pulling the door open further. "Is everything all right?"

Not quite meeting his gaze, Harry said, "Yeah."

"Are you worried?"

"A bit. I'll be OK."

"Good night, then. I will wake you when it's time."

"Good night."

-----------------------------------

At half past three, Marvolo awoke and dressed quickly before going to wake Harry.

Harry blinked sleepily in the glare from Marvolo's wand. "OK," he mumbled. "I'm awake."

"Get up and wake Draco. Lucius will be here any moment."

"All right." Harry slid out of bed and reached for the clothes he had left out the night before. He shivered slightly.

Marvolo saw that at some point Harry had opened his window, probably so he would not have to get up when his owl returned from hunting. He threw Hedwig a reproachful look which she returned from huge, unrepentant eyes. Marvolo had spelled the windows to open only for Harry, himself, or Tally so that visitors could not discern the house's location.

Fortunately, the hall door was bolted while their shared door had remained unlocked, so Marvolo decided that Harry had not risked revealing their location, but had gained some trust in him. He went to the window and closed it, deciding not to reprimand Harry for leaving it open.

Lucius arrived shortly thereafter, and Marvolo made certain that they were all ready. They went to the kitchen fireplace which was still connected to Madam Malkin's robe shop by Secret Floo—the term for any unspecified location attached to one other fireplace on the Floo Network—and traveled one by one to the shop.

Marvolo passed through second, after Lucius. Harry soon followed and Draco came last. It was simple to Apparate from the robe shop to the visitor's entrance of the Ministry building.

Upon arriving, Lucius released his son (who straightened his clothing as if he had just been man-handled) and led them to an old telephone box.

The others instantly arranged themselves to give Marvolo the most breathing space. Lucius stood at the back, one hand on Draco's shoulder. Marvolo saw a quiet blaze of annoyance smoldering in the blond boy's eyes. Harry, now invisible, must have been pressed very close to Draco because Marvolo could stand at ease without brushing against Harry's Cloak.

With his free hand, Lucius entered five digits on the telephone's dial.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," said a cool female voice. "Please state your name and business."

"Lucius Malfoy and two guests," Lucius responded smoothly. "We are here to remove a Trace."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Two badges appeared in the coin return, and Lucius passed one to Draco and one to Marvolo.

Marvolo glanced at his badge. It read, "_Guest of Lucius Malfoy._ Trace Removal." He passed the absurd object to Harry's disembodied hand as the booth began to descend and the voice instructed the visitors to report to the security desk.

The next stage of the operation went as smoothly as the first. As Draco handed his wand to the security wizard for examination, Lucius Stunned the man. Marvolo planted a false memory of visiting the water cooler in the guard's mind, and they continued through the golden gates to the lifts.

Since Harry was invisible, Marvolo kept very close to his ward to keep track of him. Harry kept obligingly near him in contrast to Draco who seemed Magnetically repelled by Lucius. _Familiarity breeds contempt,_ Marvolo supposed.

Inside the lift, Lucius chose the number nine button and they waited until they heard the cool female voice from the telephone box announce, "Department of Mysteries."

"There will be no one here at this hour," Lucius told them as they moved toward a plain black door. "Mr. Potter may remove his Cloak."

When they had gone through this door they were in a black circular room with several plain black doors along its circumference.

Harry, visible once more, reached back to close the door.

"Leave it!" Lucius said, tugging Harry away by the shoulder.

Barely touching the wand in the pocket of his robes, Marvolo murmured "_Impedimenta_" under his breath.

Lucius was knocked into the wall. He stood there a moment, looking as if he was not sure what had happened.

Marvolo put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "You are not to touch him," he explained simply.

"Forgive me, my lord," Lucius said.

"I am not the one to whom you owe an apology."

With a look more of loathing than penitence, Lucius addressed Harry. "I apologize, Mr. Potter."

"Um...that's OK," said Harry, looking a bit stunned himself.

"Lead on," Marvolo said impatiently.

Through the door opposite the one they had come through was a room filled with clocks and hour glasses of every kind imaginable. The air was full of the sound of ticking and a beautiful dancing light which came from a very large crystal bell jar at the opposite end of the room. The jar stood on a desk, and Marvolo judged that even without this added height it would have been taller than Harry, though not as wide as Harry's shoulders.

Harry looked more nervous than ever as they approached the jar. Still, he watched with as much fascination as the others as the tiny hummingbird hatched within the jar, rose to the top on a sparkling current—maturing as it went—and eventually returned to its egg as a minuscule chick.

Lucius tapped his wand against the glass with a _chink_ing sound and said, "_Permios_." The jar did not change in appearance, but he declared it ready.

Marvolo produced a silver knife and made a small laceration in his palm.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his surprise evident.

"Making certain it works as expected." Marvolo slipped his bleeding hand through the glass of the jar as the hummingbird made its way up the air current. Immediately, the blood faded from his palm, a scar appeared and his fingers became dry and gnarled. The skin of his whole hand became wrinkled, and Marvolo felt a dull pain in the joints.

Then the skin began to smooth. The pain vanished, and the hand gradually looked young again. The scar looked much more recent, and Marvolo withdrew his hand just as the cut reopened.

"Excellent," he said. He healed the cut with the spell he had learned from the magical medical books and turned to Harry. "Are you ready?"

Harry looked very shaken. "Better put some sort of mark on my face," he said quietly. "So you'll know when to pull me out."

Very carefully, Marvolo made a small cut on the side of Harry's face, at the cheekbone.

"OK," Harry said grimly. "Let's get it done."

Marvolo put one arm around Harry, against his back, and used the other to support Harry's shoulders and neck. _"Trust me,"_ he whispered in Parseltongue.

Though he was undoubtedly terrified, a kind of resolve came into Harry's eyes. Perhaps there was a bit of the stoic in him after all.

Gently, Marvolo let Harry's head fall back into the jar.

---------------------------------------------

_Oh, is that a cliff-hanger ending? Mwa ha ha ha! I is so evil! :D_


	14. Questions

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first thirteen chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:_

_**Barranca, **__you provided me with eight or ten minutes of pointless fun as I explored the time lapse pumpkin videos. Thanks. :p I had never seen those before._

_**i like pineapples**__, thanks so much! I have only started reading one other story with a similar plot, and I must say I wasn't too impressed with it either. It gave me no inspiration for this one, I promise you._

_**Aoi Mitsukai**__, your compliments make me feel all warm and fuzzy. :p I am so glad that you like Marvolo's character. When I set out to write this story, I wasn't crazy about the fact that I would have to make Voldemort a main character (that was one of DarkFilly's stipulations for the agreement we made). I have had to use all my available resources to make him into someone that both DF and I could like. And I must say, he is growing on me. I have always liked Tom Riddle as a character, but I have always disliked Voldemort. They seemed like two different people. So in this story I am trying to give TR two sides without changing him too much from what JKR originally intended. Try doing that while staying true to your own beliefs and satisfying your friend who commissioned the story in the first place...it's a balancing act! Just to clarify for you, yes: TR's Trace is gone for good (or evil, ha ha) and he doesn't need to worry about it._

_**To everyone**__: I'm sorry about the cliffhanger... OK, that was a lie. I enjoyed leaving you hanging. I'm glad. :D_

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. As usual, you guys rock! :D_

_._

_**WARNING**__: This chapter includes spoilers for OOTP and HBP. Ye be warned!_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one; **__the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_._

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XIV. Questions

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It was horrible. So much worse than Professor Lockhart removing the bones from his arm, or even than having to grow them back. Harry wanted to scream, but his brain was so busy trying to process a million impulses at once that it could not be bothered with sending messages to his lungs and throat to make a sound. Once in a while he felt a euphoric joy, but more often fear, sorrow and pain. At the outside of his consciousness he noticed that his chin was prickling—he was growing a beard. At least his scar did not burn now. But his vision was getting cloudy, as if he were wearing someone else's glasses. He felt a strange anxiety followed by peace, and then a great fatigue; he was certain he would pass out.

Then Harry realized that the same torture was beginning all over again, but in reverse.

_No, _he thought,_ I can't go through all that again. Please, let me out!_ He needed help. His vision was becoming clear again and he could make out Marvolo's face. Of course Marvolo would help him. _Marvolo, please,_ his mind screamed. But another voice kept saying the name _Voldemort_.

A strangled cry ripped from Harry's throat as Marvolo pulled him free. He felt the sting of the cut on his cheek. He sobbed under the weight of the lifetime of emotions he had just passed through—twice.

"Harry," Marvolo whispered in his ear. "Shh, Harry. It's all right."

Harry realized he was making some pathetic sort of noise and clamped his jaw shut. He clung to Marvolo and cried silently. When he could form words, he begged, "Take me home? Please?"

"I will," Marvolo promised, but he did not move yet.

Harry felt his guardian's strong arms encasing him, shudders and all, and heard the soft hiss of Parseltongue. _"I can't tell you how tall you will be,"_ Marvolo told him, _"but your eyes will stay green."_

Then he healed the scratch on Harry's face and led him back through the Time Room.

Hardly noticing his changing surroundings, Harry stumbled along until they came to the lift. There Marvolo wrapped the Invisibility Cloak back around him before they continued.

The sky was turning a pale blue-grey when they emerged from the Ministry headquarters. A slight breeze revived Harry a little and he realized that the Malfoys were about to leave them.

"Draco?" Harry called, hating how feeble his voice sounded.

Draco, unable to see him, came awkwardly toward his location at Marvolo's side.

Harry reached one hand out from under the Cloak and rested it on Draco's arm to show where he was. "If I owl you, will you write me back?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks... for stopping me. I had no idea."

"It's OK," Harry said automatically.

Draco went back to his father and the Malfoys Disapparated.

"Are you all right to Apparate?" Marvolo asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, not bothering to consider the question. He welcomed the compressed feeling of nothingness that usually made him feel sick.

They arrived in the dining room. Marvolo sighed as he pulled Harry's Cloak off. "I had hoped to land us upstairs," he muttered. "Can you climb the stairs, or shall we try again?"

"Yeah, I can." In truth, Harry's legs and most of the rest of him felt fine. But his balance was off, and the ghost of a thousand sensations haunting his mind kept him from focusing very well. He kept a hold on Marvolo's arm to steady himself until they came to his bedroom.

Marvolo helped Harry over to his bed and shocked him by actually kneeling to remove Harry's shoes.

Tally appeared at the door and peeped in. "Do masters require assistance?" he asked.

Marvolo gave Harry a questioning look. "Tea?" he suggested. "Brandy?"

Harry shook his head. "Just sleep."

"I will look after him, Tally," Marvolo told the elf.

Tally vanished with a loud _crack_ that made Harry's head throb.

Coming out of his numbness a bit more, Harry saw that Marvolo was beginning to help him off with his outer shirt. "I can do it," he said quickly. "I'm OK."

Immediately, Marvolo withdrew his hands. "All right," he said. He went to the hall door and looked back. "Forgive me for being 'creepy,' but I may be here when you wake."

Harry nodded. Something was clawing through the haze in his mind. He knew he should not try to discuss anything relatively important while his head was reeling, but it was causing a strange squirm in his chest that he wanted to get rid of. "Marvolo...?"

"Yes."

Harry took a deep breath to steady his voice. "I... don't hate you anymore."

"Thank you for telling me."

When Marvolo had gone, Harry peeled off his outer shirt and nestled into bed without bothering to undress further.

--------------------------------------

_What time is it?_ The semi-opaque windows made his room dim most of the day, but Harry could tell it must be mid-morning at least. Why would Marvolo let him sleep so late?

Then he remembered his ordeal and wondered how he could have forgotten, even for a moment. Still staring at the window, he said, "Marvolo?"

"I'm here," Marvolo answered from close by.

Harry rolled onto his side and saw that Marvolo had moved a chair to his bedside. He thought of saying, "Hullo, Creepy," but decided that it would not be wise. "Is my Trace gone?" he asked.

"Yes. I performed the test on you twice as you slept. It is definitely gone. How do you feel?"

"Much better than last night."

"Ready to try some simple wandwork?"

"Yeah." Too late Harry realized that after he had told Marvolo he could prepare for bed on his own, he was about to reveal that he had once again slept in his clothes. _Blast_, he thought. But there was nothing for it.

Marvolo made no comment on his attire, but Harry knew it had not escaped him.

"Is there time for breakfast?" Harry asked, noticing that he felt starved. "Or lunch? What time is it anyway?" He put on his glasses and reached for his watch on the bedside table.

"It is a quarter past eleven. I will conduct your lessons in the parlor. Tally will bring us something there."

"OK." Harry pulled a clean T-shirt from his bureau and glanced over his shoulder. Seeing that Marvolo was still seated, he said, "Um... I'll be right down."

Marvolo smirked and stood to go. "I will be waiting for you."

_He says that almost like a threat,_ Harry thought, tugging his T-shirt over his head. _And why the blazes does he look at me like that? He must realize it gives me the creeps._

_Of course,_ a voice in his head agreed._ That's_ why _he does it. The sadist's idea of a joke._

"Well," Harry muttered to his reflection when he had popped his head out of the new shirt, "at least he's got a sense of humor."

The first few spells seemed strange to Harry—he felt certain that a letter from the Ministry of Magic would arrive any moment. But as time passed without interruption (except Tally bringing in a tray of little sandwiches), he began to relax and enjoy working magic again.

"You told me your Defense classes have been deficient the last two years," Marvolo said while they took their lunch break. "What exactly _have_ you learned?"

Trying not to be too distracted by the fact that the Dark Lord was sitting _on the floor_ with him and eating finger sandwiches, Harry replied, "Last year was mostly a load of rot about warding off vampires... and anything else we learned was just text. And this year..." Harry frowned, trying to remember whether Professor Lockhart had actually taught him anything useful. "Oh, I learned not to set a flock of Cornish Pixies loose."

Marvolo smiled.

"And I learned the spell _Obliviate_, but I've never tried casting it. That's supposed to wipe a memory, right?"

Arching one eyebrow, Marvolo said, "I am surprised that a Hogwarts Teacher would introduce you to such a spell in your second year."

"Er... it's a long story. I also learned _Expelliarmus_ from the Potions master."

"Much more practical."

"Yes. You know, Draco Malfoy tried to take your diary away from me at one point—he thought it was mine, you see. I used the Disarming Charm to get it back from him."

"Well done."

"And somebody in the dormitory taught me a Tickling Charm—guess it's not very impressive, but it's easy to cast. Draco introduced me to a couple of nasty ones: _Serpensortia_ and _Taran— Taran_-something. It made my legs jerk around a lot."

"_Tarantallegra?"_ Marvolo suggested. "That one was just becoming popular in my day."

"Yeah, that's it. Snape also did one that made spells stop..."

"_Finite Incantatum._ Quite useful."

"I think I should definitely learn that one."

"Oh, you must learn them all."

Harry felt overwhelmed. "There's so much to learn."

"Yes, your education is deplorably lacking. By the time I was your age, I could control a weak-minded fellow student by the Imperius Curse and have him write lines or tidy the room for me."

"The Imperius Curse?"

"All in good time. Let's get you to master some of the spells you already know before you learn new ones."

Casting _Tarantallegra _and _Rictusempra _on Tally made Harry feel very guilty, but he knew that the spells did no permanent damage, and the house-elf never complained. The Tickling Charm was easy, so he did not need to practice it many times before Marvolo let him move on. _Tarantallegra_ proved much more difficult, and it was nearly sunset before Harry could cast it with consistent effectiveness. Each time he performed it correctly he had the chance to practice _Finite Incantatum_ to stop the spell.

At last Marvolo told Tally he could go to prepare dinner. "While we wait," he told Harry, "you may try to Disarm me."

"OK..." Harry was uneasy as he turned his wand on his guardian. It did not feel right; even if it had, Marvolo did not exactly inspire ideas of easy prey. It took a lot of nerve to raise his wand in the offensive stance and say the spell.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Marvolo barely blinked. His wand had not so much as twitched in his hand. "Were you even trying?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, embarrassed. "Are you blocking me?"

"With only a _very_ weak Shield Charm. I can do some spells without saying them aloud, though they tend not to be as strong."

"Great. That makes me feel better."

"Try again. Mean it this time."

Harry swallowed. He lifted his wand again and shouted the spell, channeling all he could through his wand at Marvolo.

This time Marvolo was driven back a step and the wand slipped from his long fingers, but he was able to catch it before it hit the floor. As he straightened, he was smiling. "Better. Again."

By dinner time Harry was able to Disarm Marvolo, but not with the force or finality he had observed when Snape cast the spell on Lockhart. Not even close. Marvolo seemed equally puzzled by the slow progress.

"I really am putting little effort into blocking you," Marvolo mused, dipping his spoon in his soup. "You had no trouble with the spells you practiced on the house-elf. We must conclude that the trouble is in either this particular spell, or the fact that you are performing it on me."

Harry thought back to the two times he had cast the spell before. He had had no trouble getting the diary away from Draco. And when he and Ron had cast the charm on Lockhart—an adult, and a teacher at that—Lockhart's wand had been very competently defenestrated.

"I don't think it's the spell," Harry said slowly. "Maybe you're just too powerful for me."

Marvolo shook his head. "The most powerful wizard imaginable could be defeated easily if he did not defend himself. I was hardly trying. Were you?"

"Yes! I gave it all I could, honestly."

"You are not holding back at all? You're not afraid of making me angry?"

"I don't think so. Maybe at the back of my mind somewhere, but I really was trying my hardest."

"Very well. We will try again after dinner. Remember, if you do manage to hurt me, I will be _pleased_, not angry."

"OK, I'll try."

But when Harry stumbled up to his room two hours later, he had still had very little success. He could get the wand out of Marvolo's hand, but it would not fly over for him to catch. He could drive Marvolo back a step or two, but he would not send him slamming into walls any time soon. It was frustrating, and at first he was afraid that Marvolo would not believe that he was really trying, but he found that his fear was needless. Marvolo seemed to know he was not holding back, but they were no nearer an explanation.

Harry bolted his doors and got a pair of pajamas from his bureau. His hand brushed something hard at the back of the drawer. Reaching to the very back, he drew out three objects: the basilisk fang, Marvolo's diary and the diary of Tom Riddle Senior. He had hidden them there the day he had moved to this room and then all but forgotten them.

He ran his fingers over the smooth, pale surface of the fang. He knew that even if he could be certain that he and Ginny were safe from its effects, he could not have brought himself to stab the diary now. He wondered if Marvolo remembered that he still had it. Probably—not much got past him.

Perhaps, Harry thought, he should just give Marvolo his diary and the fang, now that he knew he could not use them. But something made him tuck the objects back into the drawer and cover them with clothes again. The older diary he took to bed with him.

He skipped ahead several months from the place he had left off and the following entry caught his interest:

_16 July, 1926_

_My life is in ruins. I came to myself some days ago. I don't know what could have possessed me. Surely it was more than rash youthful passion. How could a person become enamored of Merope on a whim? She isn't half so beautiful as I once thought, and I'm sure that less than a year of marriage can't be what's done it to her! It's gotten so I can hardly bear the sight of her. It is not fair to either of us. We must separate. I will tell her tomorrow._

Harry frowned. He felt a bit weird reading someone else's dirty laundry. But after all, Riddle was dead; and what was the point in keeping a diary if no one ever read it? He looked to the next entry, dated two days later.

_Merope would not listen to me. She wept and carried on and was __very__ tiresome, but I gave no ground. Then she told me she was __expecting__. Could anything have sped me on my way more quickly? I'm not certain I even believe her. She might have fabricated it to get me to stay. If she __is__ with child than I should say I have escaped a very near thing indeed. Any child of hers is bound to be hideous and witless. I should be ashamed of such a child. And what would it profit them to have a husband and father who despised them? She got me by some trick of devilry, and she can take what she's earned._

Harry let out a long breath. "If Merope was hideous and witless," he whispered, "then your son must have taken after _you_, because he's neither, you...." He could think of nothing foul enough to call the man. Without warning, a tear dropped from Harry's eye onto the front of his pajamas. Was he really crying over..._baby Voldemort?_

"Harry?" Marvolo called softly from the next room.

Instinctively, Harry shoved the diary under his pillow. "Yes?"

"I am about to retire, if you do not need anything."

This sounded a bit strange for some reason, but Harry answered, "All right. Good night, then."

"Good night."

As Harry glanced at his watch and blew out the candle by his bed, he realized what was so unusual. It was very late. Harry almost never stayed up later than Marvolo did, and he had always been the one to find his guardian before bed. This time, Marvolo had come to him.

_Great Scot_, Harry thought to himself. Was it possible that Marvolo had been looking for his "good night" ?!

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_Please give me reactions on what you found interesting or funny...the Trace removal, Marvolo's helpfulness, the spell-casting lessons, the diary. Whatever. I live for the reviews, guys. __:) I love it that I've gotten a ratio of ten reviews per chapter. It's so cool of you all. *Huggles*_


	15. Dueling Partners

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first fourteen chapters! Since you were all so nice to make posts, I'll do my best to answer them:_

_**Everyone**__: I apologize a thousand times for taking so long this time! Things were crazy busy at work and then I had Christmas to think about and then my Indiana Jones craze got rekindled because I watched Indy IV, so...OK, I'm just about out of excuses. But I am NOT abandoning this story. :)_

_**brightandsunny**__, the older Voldy isn't in my plans, to be honest. I don't think I could write him seriously...I have no respect for him as a villain (No offense, JKR). No villain should be pure evil in my opinion—it makes them boring. Just as a purely good hero is boring. You can't relate to them. As for your other speculations...wait and see! Glad you liked Tommeh sitting on the floor eating ickle sandwiches. Couldn't resist._

_**Anonymous**__, it wasn't such an abrupt change, really. Harry had just been suppressing it because he's human and we humans like to hold grudges. Not to mention he's got it in the back of his mind that he __**should**__ hate Marvolo._

_**Loony Dagda**__, that is correct; he is once again almost 13. But his Trace disappeared when he aged, and once gone it doesn't come back._

_**Yukilumi**__, I guess that puts you in DarkFilly's camp. I however __**do**__ like cannon Harry more than the dark Harry that lots of ff writers go for, and you will find if (and when) I post other stories (HP or not) that I do my best to either stay true to cannon or come back to it in the end. So you may want to stop reading when DF leaves off, at the first "ending" I have planned. Thanks for saying my style is rather good...glad to see my University degree isn't going completely to waste._

_**ams71080**__, thanks for the appreciation! :p_

_**Yuuka Tanari**__, you're getting ahead of me. Be patient._

_**NaruXHinata-Rules**__, you flatter me. I'll take a dozen like you. :D_

_**anon**__, I wasn't planning a Harry-Ron-Hermione angst scene, but I'll think about it._

_**MercuryEmbers**__, I looked up the actor you mentioned, and I see what you mean. Hee hee. More DE's shall be involved soon._

_Thanks also goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. :D_

_._

_**WARNING**__: This chapter includes hidden spoilers for GOF. Ye be warned!_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one; **__the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XV. Dueling Partners

-------------------------------------

The fact that Harry no longer hated him pleased Marvolo, but it did not mean that Harry _trusted_ him. Not completely. They were gaining ground, but slowly.

He wasn't sure what he would do when Harry did reach the point of total trust. It would be a great waste to kill him then. In any case, he would not kill him before he had a chance to show off Harry's loyalty to him to his followers. And then.... He was becoming accustomed to having someone with whom to make his plans. This was dangerous, of course, but the information he had shared thus far was hardly of a sensitive nature.

Harry however, _was_, Marvolo thought, picking up the _Daily Prophet_ to read over his morning coffee. The boy was a bundle of emotions. Love, hate, fear, despair, anger—Harry had them all and more. It became very tiresome to deal with, but at times it also made Harry a bit more interesting. Still, the shyness had to go. Perhaps he should stop giving Harry that intrusive smile that made the younger boy squirm nearly every time...but it was _so_ amusing.

In the end he decided it just wasn't practical to have Harry unable to so much as loosen his collar in Marvolo's presence without turning pink. He would have to set Harry's mind at ease in that area, much as he hated to give up his sport.

The Prophet had little more to offer that day, except that Harry's picture had been passed out to the Muggles now. They had been told that Harry was most likely a runaway, but that he might have been kidnapped. No more shopping in Little Hangleton for Harry, then. Not unless he were disguised.

People were beginning to lose hope of finding Harry. If he waited long enough, Dumbledore might even conclude that Marvolo and Harry had finished each other off in the Chamber of Secrets.

When Harry finally came downstairs, his breakfast was cold, but he did not complain.

"I understand that you need more sleep than I do," Marvolo told him, "but that is why you ought to turn in before I do."

Harry nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stay awake so late."

"If it happens again, I may decide to wake you early."

"It won't," Harry said glumly.

Marvolo could see that Harry had no desire to mention what he had been doing in his room at half past eleven, but that was all right. He knew Harry well enough that he could be sure it was nothing dangerous.

As soon as breakfast was over, Marvolo took Harry back to the parlor for more spell practice. There they quickly determined that it was not Harry's choice of spell that was holding him back. Whatever spell Harry tried, Marvolo could shrug it off with the feeblest Shield Charm.

"It is time to change our approach," Marvolo announced after half an hour of fruitless trying. I will attempt to disarm _you_, and you will block me using the spell, _Protego_. Are you familiar with it?"

"Not very. But I guess I've got to learn it sometime."

"Precisely. On three, then."

At the same moment that Marvolo said the Disarming Charm, Harry cried, "_Protego!"_

Marvolo's spell was quite effectively blocked. "Very good," he said. "We will try it again, only this time I will put a lot more force behind it."

This time Marvolo's spell lit the room with scarlet light, and Harry's shield appeared as a thin layer of blue ice curved in front of him. When the two spells collided, the streams of magic condensed and joined until they resembled nothing more than two lengths of rope spliced together, hanging taut between their wands.

Harry looked shocked as he stared at the joined spells. The blue end of the crackling magic-rope was slowly but steadily turning red.

Realizing that he was on the verge of something very significant, Marvolo pushed his spell harder until the scarlet crept up to the tip of Harry's wand.

Harry was thrown backward with such force that he didn't stop until he slammed into the fireplace behind him. His wand, meanwhile, sailed in a graceful arc to Marvolo's waiting hand.

Marvolo quickly set both wands aside and went to help Harry stand. Harry's shoulder had taken the most of the impact against the mantelpiece, but his head had made contact with the chimney just afterward.

"Ow..." Harry said faintly. "Oh my gosh, that hurts."

"Sit down," Marvolo said, recognizing that asking whether Harry was all right would be a pointless waste of time.

Harry sat in one of the parlor's elegant armchairs and Marvolo stood behind him to examine his head.

"How is your vision?" Marvolo asked, parting Harry's tangled hair in search of a lump.

"Um...it's OK, I think." Harry rubbed at his eyes.

"All right. Hold still."

"That's it," Harry said, wincing as Marvolo's fingers crossed the sore spot.

Marvolo saw a trace of blood on his fingers and resisted the urge to lick it off. "The skin is broken," he reported. "I can heal that easily enough, and I'll have Tally give you a headache draught." He retrieved his wand and healed the small wound. "Better?"

"A bit, thanks."

"Good. Now I'll have a look at your shoulder."

Harry actually leaned away from him as he said, "It's fine."

Running low on patience, Marvolo exclaimed, "For heaven's sake, Harry, I am not going to molest you!"

He got no response except a highly increased breathing rate.

"Look at me," he said more gently, moving into Harry's line of vision.

Harry lifted very nervous eyes to meet those of his guardian.

"I know I've hurt you just now, and I cannot promise that won't happen again. But I do promise that I will not _harm_ you. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded and looked away, obviously embarrassed.

"Now, I know your shoulder must be throbbing," Marvolo went on as if they had just finished discussing the weather, "so if you would..."

Harry obediently removed his collared shirt, then pulled his T-shirt over his head—with obvious discomfort—and sat rigidly, turning the articles over in his lap.

The beginnings of a large bruise were already showing on Harry's shoulder. It was going to be a lovely one.

"If this is 'fine,' Harry, I suppose it would take decapitation to make you scream."

"Decapitated people can't scream," Harry retorted.

"Shall we wager on it?"

Harry made a sound of disgust. "I hope I never have the opportunity to find out, thank you."

Marvolo called Tally and the elf appeared immediately. He took in the scene and looked as though he thought he might not have been called after all and was going to be severely punished.

"Master called?" he squeaked.

"Fetch a headache draught for Harry, and something to treat bruising."

"A Chill-Cozy," Harry put in. "That's what Madam Pomfrey uses on my Quidditch bruises," he added when Marvolo gave him a quizzical glance. "I'm sure they sell some in Diagon Alley."

Tally bowed. "Tally knows a place much closer, Master Harry," he said. "Tally will return shortly." He disappeared with the usual loud _crack_.

"Well," Marvolo said, taking Harry's outer shirt and draping it over Harry's shoulders, "I suppose we will leave off with our practice for the day." He thought back over the strange incident which had caused Harry's injuries. "What can have caused our spells to fuse like that, I wonder?"

Harry rested his chin on his hands. "I dunno. It doesn't make any sense to me. First I can't touch you with my spell; then it seems like our spells are of equal strength..."

"But before, when I was the one defending.... Equal."

"Huh?" Harry said eloquently.

Marvolo looked down at his ward. "The only two wands cut from the same holly tree," he said thoughtfully. "And they belong to the only two Parselmouths Hogwarts has seen in a hundred years."

"You think...you think our wands...sort of repel each other?"

"I don't know. But I think I'd like to see you duel with someone else."

"Who?" Harry asked, sounding nervous again.

"Someone not too much more experienced than you."

"I could visit Draco at his house," Harry said suddenly. "He mentioned that."

"No; I am not ready for us to go _chez_ Malfoy. But we might have Draco here again."

"Yeah, but Draco still has his Trace."

"Thus far," Marvolo agreed.

"Wait...oh gosh, you're not going to make him get it removed!"

"I'll leave that for his father to do."

"Please don't, Marvolo. It was so awful! Draco doesn't want to go through that. Growing up at the regular pace is bad enough!"

"Why so much concern for Draco?"

Harry pulled the sides of his shirt closer around him. "Because. He's hated me since we started school, and it was kind of nice that we were getting along now."

"And why should having his Trace removed change any of that?"

"Because the reason you want it done is so he can practice dueling with _me_. That means he'd be going through that nasty process because of _me_. And he doesn't want to..."

"Oh, Draco wants his Trace removed."

"Well, yeah," Harry said, avoiding eye contact again. "But not that bad. Not that _way_. Please don't make him."

Marvolo put his hand on Harry's uninjured shoulder. "He will be fine. I need you to duel someone else and I don't know or trust anyone else enough for the task. He should be honored."

Harry huffed out a long sigh. "Great. So you're going to make him hate me again and _then_ let him throw hexes at me. Brilliant."

"That's quite enough sarcasm," Marvolo said, giving Harry a little slap that he was sure would not even sting. It was merely a warning. Next time he would mean business.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"Don't be sorry. Do better."

As Marvolo let Harry mull that over, Tally reappeared.

Harry jumped, but Marvolo, whose nerves were beyond the strength of steel, remained unmoved.

"Tally has returned with Master Harry's achy draught and his Chill-Cozy," the elf reported.

Marvolo passed the bottle of headache draught to Harry.

"Tally has also brought pumpkin juice for nasty tasteness," Tally said proudly.

Without a word, Marvolo took the glass, drained it and handed it back to the now sullen elf. "You may go."

"Yes, Master," Tally said, almost growling. He Disapparated.

"Why did you do that?" Harry asked.

"I won't have my ward pampered, and I will certainly not have my servants putting on airs."

Harry gulped a swallow of the potion and grimaced. "I think he was just trying to be helpful. Well—maybe not _just_. But it makes sense if he's insecure about his post, in all fairness."

"Fairness..." Marvolo repeated as he glanced at the instructions on the Chill-Cozy (_Place Chill-Cozy directly on sore area; speak the trigger word, Merryweather. Good for eight hours from activation_). "Tell me, what is your definition of 'fair?'" He pulled Harry's shirt back and placed the Chill-Cozy on the blossoming bruise. When he had muttered the imbecile trigger word, Harry shivered in response to the sudden coldness.

"Um...my definition..."

"And if you use the words 'good' or 'right' I will not be impressed."

From his position behind Harry, Marvolo could not tell, but he guessed that Harry was scowling.

"It's trying to make things equal. Or as equal as they can be."

"I see. And do you consider Tally to be my equal?"

After a moment of silence Harry said slowly, "Well, no...but that doesn't mean you have to treat him so bad—I mean so unkindly."

"Well, all things being 'equal,' if someone is not _my_ equal, it would be _un_equal of me to treat them equally."

Harry groaned. "I think I need more of this," he said, looking at the bottle of headache draught in his hand.

"Don't worry," Marvolo smiled. "One of these days I'll teach you to debate." He again rested one hand on Harry's good shoulder and was pleased to see that Harry's flinch was a small one. "Just remember not to be too kind or polite to Tally—if you lapse into such a habit when we have guests, they will perceive you as soft."

"I'll try."

"Thank you. Is this thing doing anything for you?"

"Yeah. It's not an instant heal, but it does help with the pain."

"Good. While you are indisposed we can discuss some spells you have not yet learned."

"OK. What was that one you bashed Mr. Malfoy with when he grabbed me at the Ministry?"

"Bashed? You make interesting use of your vocabulary."

"Thanks. So, what was it?"

Marvolo was not sure whether to laugh or give Harry a real slap. He decided instead to ignore the flippancy. "It was _Impedimenta_. Generally used to throw down opponents forcibly, but a weak one can be used as a Tripping Spell."

"So, it's like a body slam?"

"A..._Body Slam? _Either I am more behind on modern spells than I thought, or you are making things up."

Harry laughed. "It's not a spell—it's where you run into somebody hard, and most of you hits most of them."

"A Muggle term, no doubt."

"I guess they probably started it, yeah."

"Lunacy. I suggest that you not compare new things you learn to Muggle practices."

"OK, I'll work on it."

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That evening, Marvolo sent yet another owl to Lucius Malfoy. A lot of the Death Eaters were in Azkaban, but there were several still free and ready to come when called. And call them he would, but first Harry needed more experience. Marvolo needed to know that his ward could hold his own in case of treachery. He needed a little more confidence, a lot more emotional fortitude, a touch of apathy, and plenty of dueling with someone his age. From what he had seen, Draco could influence Harry in all those areas.

Lucius had promised to deliver anything he had at his disposal. Marvolo wondered what he would say when he was asked for his son.

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_Thanks so much for reading! I'll do my best to have the next one up sooner this time. O.O :p Please drop me a review if you enjoyed this chapter!_


	16. Friend or Foe

_Thanks for all the reviews on the first fifteen chapters! This time around, I think there really are too many to answer, so I'll just make a few general announcements:_

_1. I am still not planning for the older Lord Voldemort to play a major role in this story. Maybe you think that is canonically unrealistic, but I am writing this story just for fun, so if you don't like it, write your own._

_2. I am VERY sorry that it has taken me so long to post, but I think you will agree that real life should come first, always. Things have been very hectic, and I am posting now only to avoid having to do other things... *cough* Yes, I'm procrastinating. My older sister and her husband are visiting from across the Atlantic, we've had a lot of guests lately (more today!), my little sis just had her appendix out (yes, DarkFilly, the sister you know!), and I leave for the summer tomorrow. (Which, alas, means you probably won't get another update until at LEAST August. I'm sorry, really!)_

_3. I am NOT going to abandon this story permanently. If it takes me ten years, I will finish it._

_4. For those of you waiting for me to continue my __**Indiana Jones**__ story, I plan not to abandon that one either, but since I started this one first, it took priority._

_Thanks goes to everyone else who has followed the story this far. :D_

_._

_**WARNING**__: I don't THINK there are any spoilers in this chapter. But there is a little domestic violence. (Mwa ha ha.)_

_._

_**Disclaimers**__: I have a sneaky quote from the Jungle Books in this chapter (not the movie!). See if you can spot it._

_This is _**not**_ a slash story, nor will it develop into one. The iffy references throughout the story are merely to add to the creepiness and not to indicate a HP/TR ship. By creepiness, I mean that Tom realizes it creeps Harry out, so he keeps it up for his own amusement. He's not romantically interested. This__** is**__ what some call a "mentorship" story.... In other words, while HP and TR do have a budding relationship, __**it is strictly a platonic one **__(the same goes for Draco)._

_Furthermore, throughout the story I use a few quotes straight from the books. This practice should be taken as a compliment to JKR, since I couldn't word it better myself. ;p_

_**Author's notes**__: This story is for DarkFilly._

_Please review! As you can see from the above, I love feedback!_

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XVI. Friend or Foe

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_Just don't hate me,_ Harry thought as he and Marvolo waited in the parlor for Draco to arrive._ I didn't want it this way._

A few days had passed since Marvolo suggested that Draco come to duel with Harry. Since his shoulder was still stiff in spite of treatment, Harry did not do much physical practice during that time. Besides, Marvolo was spending more time shut up in his office these days—doing research, he said. Harry was sure he would find out what that meant all too soon, so he didn't ask.

"Announcing Draco Malfoy," Tally's voice squeaked from just outside the door, and Draco entered.

Harry thought there was a new hardness in Draco's eyes as he crossed the room and bowed to Marvolo. Was it hatred or simply the look of someone who had been forced to grow up too quickly?

"Good to see you again, Draco," Marvolo said, almost pulling off the kind host role. "Dinner is not for another hour; you'll have a chance to settle in. Your things are in the guest room as before."

Draco had sent a trunk full of his belongings ahead by Secret Floo from the robe shop after Marvolo entrusted Lucius with the special incantation needed. It would not allow people through from the shop side however, so Draco had come by Portkey as usual.

"Thank you," Draco returned. "Harry and I have a bit to catch up on."

Harry tried not to look worried as Marvolo excused himself to return to his study.

Before leaving, Marvolo turned to Harry and said in Parseltongue, _"Send the elf if you need me."_

Harry nodded in reply. If Marvolo thought he might need him, didn't that mean he wondered about Draco's loyalty as much as Harry did?

Harry had sent Hedwig to the Malfoy's house once, but she had returned with no reply to his letter. Surely that proved that Draco wanted nothing more to do with him.

"So," Draco said when they were alone, "you need a dueling partner."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry blurted. "I didn't want them to do it to you. I tried to talk Marvolo out of it..."

Draco shook his head. "You tried to talk the Dark Lord out of a plan? Are you completely daft?"

"Shut up. I know you're upset, and you've a right to be. I just want you to know I didn't want you to have to get your Trace removed."

"I know. You said as much in your letter."

"Why didn't you owl me back?"

"So I was a bit upset," Draco said defensively. "I'd already let your owl go back before I decided to reply, and my owl doesn't know how to find you."

"There's the Floo," Harry groused.

"I would have had to ask my father to send it because he's the one who knows the incantation. And he'd have read the letter before he sent it."

"He'd read your personal post?"

"Oh, yes. _Especially_ if he thought it were personal. Can't blame him too much in this case, really. If my kid wanted to Floo something to my leader's house, I'd want to see it first, too. I did write a reply, though." Draco unfastened his collar and reached into the front of his shirt to retrieve a slightly wrinkled envelope. "Not a lot of reason to hand it over now, since we can just talk, but here it is."

Harry took the letter and opened it, turning away from Draco for some semblance of privacy. Draco's elegant but careless scrawl covered a single sheet of parchment.

"_Harry: I was more frustrated with the infernal irony than with you. Once I decide I can live with the Trace after all, your guardian decides I need to get rid of it. I was a bit annoyed with you at first, but I know it wasn't your fault, and now that it's gone I certainly don't __miss__ my Trace. I don't know why you're so anxious to make sure I'm not angry (since we're not even friends), but I'm not. And even though it was unpleasant I'm glad I'll get to leave home again soon. It sounds like I'll be staying quite a while this time, so you can consider us even, if it makes you feel better._

_--Draco"_

Harry tucked the letter back into the envelope and turned toward Draco again.

"Satisfied?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. Um, about what I said when you first came here... about being friends. I didn't really mean it. I just couldn't get used to the idea that you didn't want to kill me anymore."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "You on an apologizing kick?"

"I could have you thrown out, you know."

"Sure. So are you saying we could be friends after all?"

Harry wondered suddenly whether Marvolo might be listening in. "Well, maybe. If you think you could stop insulting me so much."

"You are a bit touchy, you know. But all right."

They went up to the guest room and Draco began unpacking his trunk. "Any idea how long I'm staying?" he asked, moving sets of robes from trunk to wardrobe with little flicks of his wand.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Maybe a few days, maybe weeks. I think it will depend on the kind of progress we make."

"I suppose. Well, I hope it's weeks."

"What do your parents do to make you hate it there so much?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "What _don't_ they? It's like I can't even think for myself. Father has my whole life planned for me. And if I deviate from that plan at all... he finds ways to make me regret it. One thing I'll say for him: he's creative."

Harry shuddered. "I can't believe how spoiled I used to think you were."

"Money can buy you a spot on a Quidditch team, but not a nicer family, I'm afraid. I guess I have been spoiled materially... I can have practically anything I want, as long as it's for sale."

Draco sounded so bitter; Harry had never felt sorrier for him. "I think Without A Trace should hold a meeting tonight," he said.

"Oh, please," Draco scoffed. "I thought that was a joke."

"It was, but it's not anymore."

After giving Harry a long stare, Draco said, "What good would it do?"

"We can plan ways to keep you away from home. And there's something to be said for moral support."

"Yes, _I_ have something to say for it," Draco muttered sarcastically. "You know, you're rushing into this friendship headlong. Oughtn't you to slow down and figure the cost first?"

Harry shook his head. "If that's how you go about it, it's a wonder you have any friends at all."

"I haven't."

Genuinely puzzled, Harry said, "Sure, you do."

"What, Crabbe and Goyle? _Please_. Those are not friends."

"What defines a friend to you, then?"

"Someone you trust," Draco answered immediately. "I trust no one."

"But you think you could trust me? Why?"

Draco smirked. "For one thing, you couldn't lie to save your life. And if I did ever trust anyone, it wouldn't hurt if he were powerful."

"Might have known you'd have personal gain in mind. But it's a start, I guess. But listen: you can't go on treating me like an inferior, OK? You heard what Marvolo told your father. If he's out, I'm in charge. As the Heir of Voldemort, I think I deserve a bit of respect."

"Well, I won't lick your boots, but I think I can give satisfaction."

"OK, then. And WAT _is_ meeting tonight. I'll come to your room."

"I'll tell the valet to let you in.... That was a joke, not a jibe."

During dinner, Marvolo asked Draco about his father's activities.

"How many Death Eaters will convene on the twenty-eighth?" he inquired.

"I'm not sure of the exact number," Draco answered, "but I know at least six besides my father will be coming."

"You're having a meeting?" Harry asked. "Here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was not important that you know."

"What happened to 'no secrets?'"

"Not now, Harry."

Marvolo's tone was light enough, but his eyes were hard. Harry knew better than to argue.

"The meeting is about a fortnight off," Marvolo went on. "By that time I need you to have a wide array of spells in your arsenal, not to mention that you need to brush up on your sense of decorum. I think Draco can assist you with both."

Harry nodded sullenly. Draco could be insufferable, but he did have a certain presence.

"And tomorrow, I will have another procedure ready for you."

"Procedure?" Harry asked. That sounded... medical.

"It has nothing to do with your scar."

This revelation served only to pique Harry's curiosity, but it seemed that further questions would be a bad idea. "Um.... OK."

"So," Draco said lightly, "will we be dueling after diner?"

"Yes," Marvolo answered. "Harry tells me you are the expert on _Serpensortia_."

"I did master it rather early."

Harry noted that Draco's tone was not characteristically snide or boastful. He refused to entertain the idea that Draco had changed so drastically from his experience in the Department of Mysteries. No doubt it was an act to earn rapport with Marvolo. Well, long live the act.

"How early?" Marvolo asked.

"Well.... Mind you, I wasn't _supposed_ to be using a wand then, but I started trying when I was seven. Got a garter snake after about ten minutes of trying. In a month's time I graduated to king snakes. I can do vipers now."

"I was about seven when I had my first conversation with a snake."

Draco smiled. "I wish I could do that. It could come in so useful."

"I was almost eleven when I first talked with a snake," Harry put in. "Thought at first I must have imagined it."

"I don't suppose you can _learn_ Parseltongue?" asked Draco.

"You might learn a word or two," Marvolo answered, "but understanding the whole language requires a magical gift."

"I was afraid of that. Still, a word or two would be better than none."

"I can probably teach you," Harry offered. "I can try, anyway." Here was the perfect cover for club WAT. If Marvolo wanted to know what Harry and Draco were doing off by themselves, Harry could simply tell him that they were practicing Parseltongue.

"Thanks," said Draco, "I'd like that." The cordiality was definitely fake that time, but not quite sarcastic.

Harry glanced at Marvolo and saw that his guardian had not missed the tone either.

In the parlor a few minutes later, Draco offered Harry some instruction on the snake-casting spell.

"Start small," he advised. "Try to picture the snake's eyes in your mind. Harmless snakes have round pupils; venomous ones have slit-pupils. When you cast the spell, the snake should shoot out like an extension of your wand, head first."

Harry licked his lips nervously. By now he was used to failing in front of Marvolo, but he hated the idea of failing in front of Draco. He tried to see a snake's face in his mind's eye—the round-eyed innocent face of a very small, very harmless snake. At last, feeling a tiny swell of involuntary magic telling him it was time to act, he snapped his wand arm straight and said "_Serpensortia_" in as confident a voice as he could manage.

Something like a little black ribbon dropped from Harry's wand onto the floor. It darted forward, then coiled into a tiny circle.

"Better than my first try," Draco admitted, looking a bit disappointed. "Of course, I was a lot younger."

Harry tuned Draco out. Marvolo was hissing a very soft Parseltongue message to the minuscule snake and it was responding. Slowly, it uncoiled and slithered toward him.

"_Come on,"_ Marvolo was coaxing, _"come to me."_

_I'm coming, _the snake answered. At least, that was what Harry _thought_ it was saying. It wasn't as clear as most of the snakes he had heard. It seemed to mumble a bit.

Marvolo looked up and flashed his eyebrows at Harry as if in challenge.

"_Wait,"_ Harry called to the snake. _"Come over here instead."_

"_Keep coming," _Marvolo countered.

The snake looked back at Harry a moment before continuing toward Marvolo.

Draco seemed to have realized what was going on, and he looked _very _jealous.

"Join in, Draco," Marvolo invited, not taking his eyes from the snake.

_Join?_ Harry thought. How could Draco join if he wasn't a Parselmouth?

Apparently Draco had some inkling about it, but he was looking a little uncertain.

"Neither of you has a Trace," Marvolo said a moment later. "No need to worry."

Draco nodded and pointed his wand at the snake. _"Imperio,"_ he said. Then he began muttering under his breath in English. "Come this way. This is the way you _really_ want to come."

"_To me," _Marvolo hissed.

"_Don't listen to either of them," _Harry put in.

The snake seemed thoroughly confused by this time. _Lost,_ it muttered. _I'm so lost..._

"_Come to me," _Marvolo called it. _"I am your master."_

_But turning left is wonderful,_ the snake argued. Whatever Draco was doing must be something like hypnosis.

"_I'm your friend—right here," _Harry tried.

_Don't need friends..._

"_That's right," _said Marvolo. _"All you need is me. We are of one blood, you and I."_

The snake had slithered drunkenly to Marvolo's feet. He released it from Draco's spell and bent to allow it to curl around his fingers.

"Guess I need to work on my Imperius Curse," Draco mused.

"Why can't I understand this snake so well?" Harry asked.

Marvolo smiled. "Because it is a mere baby. It is still learning Parseltongue itself."

Harry was stunned. He had never had to learn the snake language—it seemed strange that snakes weren't born knowing it. And to think—this was a baby snake. It must have been so frightened and confused as they played with it. But Harry knew what Marvolo would say to _those_ sentiments. _It's an animal!_

"You asked me about Imperius," Marvolo went on. "Draco just demonstrated the spell. It is extremely difficult to master. Draco's Imperius was strong enough to influence our little guest, but not enough to control him completely."

"So, _Imperio_ lets you... control things? And people?"

"If you are strong and skilled enough, yes. It may actually be harder to control animals, since you can only send them vague impulses and pictures—unless you speak their language, of course. That is why I think you would benefit greatly from practicing this spell on a snake. Master a snake and you will soon be controlling people."

Something in Harry told him that the idea of controlling people this way was wrong, but he pushed the thought away for the time-being. "You really want me to learn this?" he asked. "You're not afraid I'll use it on you?"

"The day I have reason to fear that, Harry, is the day you are truly ready to be my heir."

.

.

Draco insisted on learning a little Parseltongue before he would "be part of any silly meeting."

Harry sighed and looked at the snake insignia on Draco's trunk, trying to summon the language. He hoped he and Draco would part for the night on more harmonious terms than he and Marvolo had.

Before saying good night, Harry had demanded, "Why didn't you tell me about the Death Eater Meeting?"

"You did not ask," Marvolo replied.

"Come on! We're supposed to be honest with each other now!"

"I hid nothing from you. If you had asked about my imminent plans, I would have confided in you. I did consciously bring up the subject in your presence."

That was true, Harry had to admit to himself. He didn't answer.

"For my trouble," Marvolo went on, "I received a scolding from my ward in the presence of a guest. That is why I said that your sense of decorum needed improvement."

"Oh...." Harry frowned. "I wasn't trying to make you look bad...."

"You made _yourself_ 'look bad.' That does not reflect well on either of us. At least you relented at my warning. But from now on, Harry when you have something against me, you will wait until we may speak privately to point it out."

Harry swallowed. He felt that Marvolo was really dodging the issue of honesty in favor of protecting his image. _"Fine."_

Marvolo hit him. Hard this time, not playfully as he had a few days ago. Harry staggered back a step, involuntarily putting a hand to the side of his face that had been slapped.

"Give me a proper answer," Marvolo said softly—menacingly.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, careful to keep all traces of sarcasm from his tone. He didn't doubt that Marvolo would hit him again.

"Good night."

Harry had blinked rapidly against the clouds forming in his eyes. "Good night."

"I should learn a greeting, I think," Draco said, dragging Harry's thoughts back to the present. "How do snakes say hello?"

"Er, they don't, really. It's more like 'Ah, another snake.'"

Draco nodded. "Idiomatic, I suppose. So, how do you say it?"

With a lot of concentration, Harry imagined that the snake on Draco's trunk was alive. "Hello," he told it.

But what he had actually said must have been Parseltongue, because Draco looked impressed. The Slytherin boy was soon imitating the series of sounds which made up the snake greeting.

"It's a lot harder than French," Draco confessed when he had finally made a decent attempt. "I'm sure my pronunciation is wretched."

"You're getting it. But can we please leave off for the night?"

"All right. Club WAT is now in session."

"Marvlol hit me tonight," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Draco sighed and looked away. "Yes... I heard. But I thought you were used to that sort of thing."

"Not from _him."_ Harry felt a tightening in his chest. "My uncle, sure. I always knew the Dursleys hated me. He doesn't hate me."

"Well, did you provoke him?"

"Um... maybe a little, but I had no idea he'd react like that."

"He didn't give you _any_ warning?"

Harry frowned. Did that slap in the parlor count? Marvolo _had_ told him to tone down the sarcasm. "Er, well, I guess. _Days_ ago, though."

Shaking his head a little, Draco said, "Look, I'm sure your guardian means to look after you and all, but he's just not a little puppy... you can't expect him to be cuddly."

"I don't," harry snapped, taking great exception to the term "cuddly."

"No? 'Ward' and 'guardian' are all very well, but he's still your master, not your brother. You know what I mean?"

Harry thought he did know what Draco meant, and he didn't like it. Marvolo had said they would be family. He had agreed to try, at least. If this was Draco's assessment of their issues, did it mean they had made no progress at all? Would they always be master and minion?

"How's the adjoining rooms thing working out for you?" Draco said, casually changing the subject.

"Fine.... Why?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, I thought as long as you were spilling your guts, we might want to address _that."_

Harry scowled at the hint that he was pathetic before he realized what Draco was really getting at. _"That _isn't an issue," he exclaimed.

"Are you in denial?"

"No!"

"Hmm..."

"I mean—" Horrified, Harry tried to collect his thoughts. Was it so unreasonable for Draco to think something like that when Harry had worried about it himself? "Listen. Marvolo _told _me it wasn't an issue, and that it won't be."

"He told you? Straight out?"

"Yes." Harry knew his face must be beet red by now.

"Well, that's interesting." Draco's face registered mild surprise and... respect?

"What?"

"It shows that he knew it _was _an issue. But it also increases your life expectancy."

"How d'you mean?" Harry was desperate for a new topic.

"Because—why bother reassuring you if he's just going to kill you in a week? Now I think you might last a few months."

"Marvolo is _not_ going to kill me!" But even as he said it, Harry felt a touch of queasiness. Draco seemed to believe firmly in the very fears he had been struggling to suppress.

"Not tonight, I agree. But why should he keep you around?"

Deciding it would be pointless and maybe dangerous to mention the family agreement, Harry countered, "Why should he kill me? I'm not dangerous to him."

"Because you're unfinished business. He's tried to kill you what—three times now?"

"Once. The other two times it was Voldemort."

"It's the same thing—how can you be so naïve?"

"Shut up! He's not the one who killed my parents or the one who was after the Philosopher's Stone last year. He's only sixteen—he's different!"

"You sound like you think you can turn him into another of your Muggle-loving friends."

Harry didn't remember moving, but suddenly he found himself pinning Draco to the floor. Draco groaned in a way that clearly showed he had had the wind knocked out of him, but he didn't look very scared. Or sorry.

But Harry was sorry. He was supposed to be making friends with Draco, not tackling him. Swallowing his pride, Harry scrambled off of Draco and pulled him to a sitting position. "Are you OK?"

Draco nodded slowly. A smile was forcing its way onto his face. He took a shallow breath. "I think this friendship thing is going to work."

"Um... OK..."

"He _is_ rubbing off on you, you know."

No need to ask whom Draco meant. "He wouldn't tackle a person," Harry argued. "His _decorum_'s too good."

"Maybe not, but if he did, he wouldn't apologize. Which you didn't."

"I didn't?"

"No. You asked if I was OK. Very different. Almost _Slytherin_."

"I _am_ sorry, though."

"I take back the compliment," Draco muttered, getting up to sit on the guest bed.

The floor was a place Harry was used to sitting, but he decided it would show better decorum to stand. "Anyway," he said, "Now that I've 'spilled my guts' to you, why don't you tell me a bit about your home life?"

"Tomorrow. It's late. You don't want to have to explain to your guardian why you can't say a spell because you're yawning so much."

Harry was annoyed, but he knew Draco was right. "OK, but I'm not letting you put it off again."

"Right."

"Good night."

Draco gave Harry a very strange look, but he responded in kind.

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_Thanks so much for reading! Sorry I'll be gone for a while. I will try to get on sometimes during the summer, but I probably won't be able to post anything new. Have a great summer!_


	17. Eyesight and Insight

_8O omg omg new chapter new chapter! Lol ok, I fail. But you have to understand: my older sis got married, I got a job, life happened, I moved to another state, I got a new, more demanding job, my parents moved to a different state, I got into the Death Note craze, etc. etc. etc… OK, enough excuses. I'll just say that I have no clue when I'll be able to update next, but I want you to know that I meant it when I said I'm not abandoning the story. I've been trying to psych myself up enough to get back into the swing of it, and we shall see what comes of it._

_The quote was from the Jungle Books: "We are of one blood, you and I." It is how Baloo taught Mowgli to greet snakes politely to keep them from biting. It saved Mowgli's life when fell into a snake pit.

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_REVIEW REPLIES:_

_Steve: I put yours first because I figure you'll miss it if I include it below: please don't review again unless you have something to say about the story itself. I prefer to receive my angry rants in private messages. I shall try to mark things more clearly for those who want to skip but lack the discernment to find the beginning of the chapter.  
_

_Brightsideoflife: you weren't wrong… it's been over a year. I do apologize!_

_Tonks-is-cool: you wrote me a book of a review! Anyone who would like a summary of the story thus far would do well to read it. Lol Thanks so much. I want to tell you that while JKR may not have intended for Lucius to be abusive, in the GOF movie Lucius hits Draco with his cane in public. To me a move like this from such a proper, stuck-up person suggests that he is even more violent in private. I could be wrong, of course—it's a matter of opinion and just the direction I happened to decide to go in this story. Here's the deal with the wands: Voldemort has a phoenix-feather wand, as you say. At this point, TMR has no idea where it may be. So he went to Olivander for a new one and got the holly-and-dragon heartstring one. The wands being brothers through the wood was partly for my own amusement, partly for intrigue, and partly for possible plot-twists down the road. I wanted to keep my options open._

_WynterRavenheart: I can't imagine why you wouldn't like H/D if you like H/T. But anyway… I think I've made my position clear._

_Lou Jin: Thank you, thank you, thank you. And my sister's appendectomy went fine, thanks!_

_ShinSheeka: I think you'll see R&H again… I haven't forgotten them altogether, but they aren't really necessary right now._

_Pickingupstars: I agree… it makes me think those people must not have family or close friends (or that they do weird stuff with them) when they imply that people who aren't romantically interested in each other never touch each other. Think now, have you never traded massages with a buddy? Have you never play-wrestled with a sibling? Hugged someone goodnight? *sigh* So yeah, thanks for your comments._

_Azrie: that chapter was from Harry's POV, so you didn't get to see Lucius cautiously making certain in his mind that this really was (or at least soon would be) the Voldemort that he was supposed to follow. You're right; I'm sure he would want to be careful._

_Zoorzh: It's simple; just skip over the review replies. xD You are not required to read them!_

_Smaginn: thanks for the support; I haven't decided yet if Sirius will enter the story, but I don't know if I can afford to leave Bellatrix out. We'll see._

_N.N.: Glad you're entertained at least, and I hope you like what comes later._

_Mondkalb: Hmm, does Marvolo care for Harry? *evil smile* mayyyybe… And yes, Harry's lonely. Misses R&H._

_Thanks so much to those of you who waited so long, and thanks for the new readers who have just started reading. You guys rock.

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_**SPOILERS**: hints at HBP plot elements._

_**Remember:** Slash not included. xp  
_

**XVII. Eyesight and Insight**

Marvolo stroked the little snake with his long, pale fingers. _"How did the boys act?"_ he asked it in Parseltongue.

_Secrets,_ the snake answered. _Lots of secrety-ness. Then the dark-haired boy pushed the light-haired boy down and held him against the ground._

Marvolo smiled._"Then what?"_

_Then they got up and were friendly-secrety again. The light one was not much hurt._

"_Good. Well done."_ Marvolo held the snake gently in his left hand as his right took hold of his wand. Ordinary animals could not be Vanished, but Conjured ones could, by a skilled wizard.*

The snake put its tongue out against Marvolo's palm, as if kissing him farewell. Then it was gone.

Harry's first snake had been good, but his next would be better. And Harry had pinned his schoolmate down on the floor. This was a lovely development. The boy was finally showing a bit of dominance. Taking a firm hand with him was paying off.

Marvolo settled into his bed. He heard Harry's stealthy return just a moment later. Then he entered a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next morning was so hot that the sullen old Riddle House actually felt warm in every aboveground room. Knowing that Harry had stayed up too late, Marvolo decided to wake him early as he had threatened.

Saying Harry's name had no effect. Marvolo gripped Harry's arm and slowly tightened his grasp.

Harry stirred, then lurched awake, trying to pull his arm away.

"Good morning, Harry," Marvolo greeted him, loosening his hold marginally. He felt Harry's muscles relaxing slowly.

"Uh… good morning," Harry mumbled. "What time is it?"

"Half past six."

"What…?" Harry sank back against the pillows."If you want to ensure a full sleep, you should go to bed earlier."

Harry obviously knew he had been caught.

Marvolo released his arm. "If you want a bit of privacy—alone or with Draco—I can give it to you. There's no need to creep around at night." He waited a moment, then prompted, "Don't you agree?"

With a deep sigh, Harry said, "Yeah. You're right. It's pretty silly of me to get upset over the Death Eater meeting and then go sneaking off. I'm sorry. Really." He looked it.

Marvolo tilted Harry's face toward him and looked him in the eye. "Remember what I told you. Don't be sorry; do better."

"I remember… but is it OK to be sorry, too?"

Smiling inwardly at Harry's jaw moving against his hand when he talked, Marvolo answered, "If your regret does not interfere with your progress. But it doesn't do to dwell on failure." He noted the light bruise forming on Harry's cheek. He took his hand away and turned toward the door. "I want you ready for breakfast by seven."

* * *

Draco looked tired at breakfast, but unlike Harry, he refrained from yawning. Harry was subdued; he spoke little.

"The _Daily Prophet_ is making Dumbledore out to be a fool or insane," Marvolo announced, setting the paper aside.

"Isn't he a bit of both, my lord?" Draco asked.

"I assure you, he is neither. But as long as the public and the Ministry think so, he can take little action against us. All he can do is persuade them to waste assets looking for Harry."

"So, the best chance to attack will be when the Harry hunt is at its peak," Draco guessed. "When the Ministry is undermanned."

"You have a mind for strategy."

"What _sort_ of attack?" Harry asked, his eyes a dull jade.

"That depends on many things."

"Like the meeting?"

"Yes."

Draco sipped his tea. "When _will_ the search reach its climax?" he wondered aloud. "Surely soon."

"The Ministry is not worried enough yet. They are still convinced that Harry is most likely hidden somewhere at Hogwarts. They've gone so far as to ask Muggles to watch for him, but it may be several weeks before the public becomes anxious enough to force them to take real action. They know that Muggles raised Harry, so they will suspect that he is hiding among them to avoid being held responsible for the trouble at Hogwarts. The wizarding world will be nearly free of Aurors."

Marvolo saw his own eagerness reflected in Draco's eyes.

"It's superb," Draco said.

Harry merely frowned and toyed with the omelet on his plate.

* * *

After breakfast, Marvolo told Harry he wanted to see him in the study.

"I'll wait for you in the parlor," Draco said agreeably. "I'll be practicing."

"OK." Harry sounded a little nervous.

Once in the study, Marvolo bolted the door. "Does your face still hurt?" he inquired as he cleared the mahogany desk of books.

"Not really," Harry said, touching his fingers gingerly to his face.

Marvolo took that to mean "not as much." "Sit on the desk," he ordered. After a quick reference to one of the many books he had been studying, Marvolo performed a simple spell which caused the bruise to change from the first stages of brown and purple to the last stages of dull yellow. "Better?"

Again, Harry felt the injured area. "Yeah. I can't feel it at all now."

"Good. Now lie down."

Harry obeyed with an expression of wariness. "What are you going to do?"

Marvolo retrieved a bottle of the pale blue potion he had brewed over the past few evenings. Then he removed Harry's glasses. "Trust me?" he asked.

Harry's eyes registered unease, but he nodded.

"Look at the ceiling and try not to blink." Marvolo unstoppered the bottle in his hand and carefully tipped two drops of liquid into each of Harry's eyes.

The younger boy's mouth twitched slightly, and he sniffed in a sharp little breath at the first contact, but he did not blink.

"Very good; you may blink."

Harry closed and opened his eyes rapidly until a tear half made of potion slid from the corner of each.

"Now hold them open again."

Harry's eyes were blurry and unfocused now as he held them open.

Marvolo aimed his wand at Harry's left eye and calmly said the spell, _"Occulus Proximus."_ He quickly repeated it for the other eye. "There. You may sit up and blink to your heart's content."

Harry rolled to his side and pushed himself upright. He reached for his glasses, but Marvolo held them beyond his reach.

"Just a moment," Marvolo said. "Look at me."

Harry did look, and Marvolo could see his pupils expanding and contracting in deep sea-green pools as they came to focus on the face before them.

"Oh…" Harry breathed.

"You see?"

"Yeah. Wow, yeah! I didn't know this was possible."

"It isn't permanent, I'm afraid; but you shouldn't need your glasses for a month or more. Then we can repeat the procedure."

"This is what all the books were for, then?" Harry asked. "You were planning to fix my farsightedness all that time ago?"

"I was."

Harry's expression had turned somewhat shy, but not out of fear this time. "Thank you," he said. "I don't mind that you didn't tell me… Sometimes surprises are nice."

"I didn't tell you because I did not wish you to become too hopeful. There was the possibility that I would not manage the procedure."

"Oh. That actually didn't occur to me. I keep forgetting you're human, I guess."

_Human,_ Marvolo thought, _but I will not always be mortal._

"Listen," Harry went on, "I'm sorry I got so angry last night."

"You are allowed to be angry, as long as you show proper respect."

"But I don't want to be angry with you."

"Why not?""

"Because it hurts." Harry's breathing had become rapid, his face flushed.

Marvolo reached out to brush potiony moisture from Harry's eyes. "You oughtn't do things to hurt yourself," he murmured. "It's not healthy." He waited until Harry seemed calm again. "Come along. Draco is waiting for us. Wear your glasses for now, please, and don't mention that you don't need them."

Harry looked puzzled, but he answered, "All right."

* * *

Harry's loyalty was growing; that much was obvious. But what would it take to turn _caring_ into worship? Would it be worth it? Once again, Marvolo wondered whether it would be less bother if he killed Harry now. But the old argument sprang to mind: _I can always kill him later._

In the parlor, Marvolo made Harry practice _Serpensortia_ over and over until he could produce a fully-grown grass snake.

"Now," he instructed, "use the Imperius curse to bend him to your will. Project your mind to his."

Harry looked nervous but determined as he pointed his wand at the snake and pronounced, _"Imperio!" _Then he began hissing to the snake: _"Come here… come on. Quickly, now…"_

The snake had begun to slither toward Harry, but now it paused. _Why?_

"_Come," _Harry urged it more forcefully, _"now."_

The snake came further, but in odd, irregular patterns.

"He's trying to shake the spell off," Marvolo explained. "Don't let him get away with that."

Harry did finally get the snake to come to him, but after that it refused to do anything he asked.

"This one is spoiled," Marvolo declared. "He's learned to resist the curse, and you are not strong enough to control him anymore."

Harry nodded. "Start over on a new one?"

"Yes, but rather than Vanishing this one, I'd like you to kill it."

"Oh, why?" Harry asked, sounding a bit whiney, in Marvolo's opinion. "Can't it just disappear like the others?"

"You need to learn the spell."

"There's a _spell_ for killing things?"

Marvolo was tempted to put his hand over Harry's scar and demand, "What did you _think_ caused this—a Tickling Charm?" He glanced at Draco and saw that the Slytherin boy also grasped the irony of the situation. "Yes," he answered. "There is."

"Then why aren't wizards constantly killing each other?"

"For the same reason Muggles are not: there are laws against it. Besides, it is not a very easy spell. And then there are the superstitions. Many well-educated wizards will tell you that killing another human being will damage your soul. Though where their evidence is, I have no idea." Marvolo did not voice the thoughts flitting through his mind. For the first time since their arrival at the Riddle house, he wondered if Harry still had the Riddle diary and the basilisk fang. He hoped and suspected that he did.

"Well, what _is_ the spell?" Harry asked.

"Draco?" Marvolo said, not trusting himself to say the words just now. He might kill Harry before he really meant to.

"It's _Avada Kedavra,"_ Draco answered, seeming a bit unnerved.

Marvolo watched Harry's bemused expression.

"That sounds sort of like _abracadabra."_

"Where do you suppose Muggles got that term?" Marvolo asked. "A corruption of the Killing Curse, twisted over a period of centuries.** They no longer have any concept of its origin. Give it a try."

"Um… couldn't I do it on a cricket or something?"

"Don't feel sorry for it. Go on. You probably won't manage it, anyway."

Harry set his jaw in the way he often did when trying something new. Aiming his wand at the snake at his feet, Harry said, _"Avada Kedavra."_

The snake twitched and hissed angrily. _Leave me alone!_

"You didn't mean it, Harry," Marvolo said. "You need to _want_ it dead." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Draco was itching to try it, but there was plenty of time to indulge the young Malfoy later. Harry's progress was much more important.

"But I _don't_ want it dead," Harry said.

Marvolo caught Harry's gaze and held it. In Parseltonge, he declared, _"If it is not dead within a few minutes, you __will__ wish it were."_

That seemed to do the trick. Harry looked a little scared and a little angry, but for once that was a good thing. He flicked his wand toward the snake and said in a strong, cold voice, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

The snake's head dropped to the floor.

Draco's jaw nearly did, too. "Wow, Harry…"

Marvolo enjoyed a moment of ecstasy. Sweet, innocent little Harry Potter had just made his first kill, and with the very curse which had scarred him so long ago. To make it even more rich, the boy was a natural. He had succeeded in only two tries. "Very well done, Harry. I am most pleased."

Harry swallowed, his eyes still locked on the dead snake. "Can I… may I… would you excuse me for a minute?" he stammered.

"Yes. Don't be long."

Harry fled.

Marvolo Vanished the snake.

"That was amazing," Draco said. "I guess he just needed the right incentive." He looked expectantly at Marvolo.

Marvolo knew Draco was hoping to learn what had been said in Parseltongue, but he saw no reason to reveal it. "I believe I will allow the two of you to spend some time together this afternoon," he said casually, "to do as you please. I think Harry could use a rest from wandwork."

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_I'll try not to let a year go by before I update again! So sorry about that. Life and all that.__ Thanks for reading!_

**NOTES:**

_*This is not stated in canon, but it seems the most logical explanation for Snape Vanishing Draco's Conjured snake in COS and no one thinking of Vanishing the giant spiders or Mrs. Norris or any of the other nasty creatures they meet along the way._

_** Again, not canon, but it's what I've thought since I first read the words "Avada Kedavra." Simple-minded Muggles and their magic shows… xp_


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